Merlin: Quest of the Dragonlord
by HighEmpress
Summary: Updated final chapter and epilogue on August 30th, 2013. The story is finally done. I hope you enjoy reading it. This is the sequel to Dawn of the Dragonlord. Merlin must go on a quest to the World of the Dead and team up with Morgana against Morgause and a dragonlord-shade. Morgana will have to make life-changing choices. Together they will work to regain Camelot.
1. Summary Timeline Prologue

**READ THIS FIRST**

This is the sequel to _Merlin: Dawn of the Dragonlord_.

But to help those of you who haven't read it (shame on you) or just don't remember it, you can read the **PROLOGUE** below, which is actually the epilogue of _Dawn of the Dragonlord._

**Timeline**:

Alternate season 3 and 4.

Arthur and Guinevere are married.

Arthur is king.

Lancelot is dead (different from the show).

Uther is dead (different from the show).

No Aggravaine.

Morgause is alive.

**Summary**:

It has been **three years** since Merlin revealed his identity to Arthur as a warlock, a dragonlord and a noble of the House of Brittanicus. Now Arthur is king and Merlin is living the double life of a servant and an 80-years-old sorcerer.

When mystery arises with the discovery of a dragon egg and an old map, it's up to Merlin to take charge and lead the knights on a quest that will put them on the path of Julius Borden and Morgause. With the Great Dragon missing, Merlin must rely on Morgana to understand Morgause's mind. Can he complete his quest in time to save Camelot and those who are trapped within its walls? You must read to find out!

**Disclaimer**: I don't own BBC's _Merlin_. Don't sue.

**I don't like to beg for reviews, but _please_ review.**

**Enjoy. **

**Merlin: Quest of the Dragonlord**

**Prologue**

"Rise and shine!"

Arthur had never appreciated being woken by bright light shining in his eyes, but this time it was different. This time it meant that Merlin was back. And by the tone of his voice, the prince knew that his servant was just as glad to be back in Camelot.

"This place is a mess! I always knew you were a _prat_, I just didn't know you were a slob."

"_Merlin_…" groaned the prince while burying his face in the pillow to shut out the bright morning light.

Yes, Merlin was back. Yet there hung a sort of uncertainty in the air. To everyone but a few trusted knights, Merlin was Arthur's manservant, but to those who knew the truth, he was in fact a powerful sorcerer, a noble of the House of Brittanicus, and a Dragonlord. Now he, Prince Arthur, was expected to keep up the pretense. But how could he? Was he really going to order _Lord_ Merlin around? Make him muck out the stables, clean his room, mend his clothes, bring his food? No one in their right mind would accept to be treated that way, against their birthrights, even against their nature. Then again, Merlin was not like anyone that he knew. In fact, Merlin was not only a lot cleverer then he looked; he was also the most well-kept secret in the entire kingdom. As annoying as it was to Arthur, if anyone had the ability to pull it off, it would be Merlin.

The tricky part, of course, would be to stop him from showing off too much.

"Seriously! You could at least have learned to pick yourself up," Merlin was saying as Arthur sat up in his bed. He became suddenly aware that the level of agitation was somewhat disproportionate to the actual state of his chambers.

"This is called a _cupboard,_" Merlin continued, pointing at the large piece of furniture. "This is for your _clean_ clothes. The dirty ones you can put… Well, we'll find a system for you because Gaius wants me to take on more physician duties and I won't always have time to look under your bed to find your… What is _that_? An apple core? I'm really disappointed."

The smug smile on Merlin's face wasn't going to make it easy.

"We have to talk," said Arthur as he was pulling his usual red shirt over his head.

Merlin kept on fussing about the room, picking up leftovers and shuffling through Arthur's clothes as though expecting to find more apple cores.

"If this is _you_ trying to tell _me_ that I can't use magic, then I have to say that I already know. It comes from having an incredible power of astuteness equaled only by an intense desire to live.

Arthur suppressed a smile. This had to remain a serious conversation.

"You are aware of my father's new rule," he stated, crossing his arms on his chest.

Merlin slowed down his pace. "Anyone caught performing magic will be killed on sight," he said bluntly.

The prince nodded. It still had not properly sunk in that his father would order him to do such a thing. Even during the Great Purge, there had been a reasonable gathering of proof before sending anyone accused of using magic to the pyre. To order one's army to kill on sight was opening the door wide for mindless accusations, which would only add mistrust to the existing climate of fear within the walls of Camelot. There was rumor now that the king's mind was set on revenge and war, or that it was clouded by something else entirely. The word 'madness' had reached Arthur's ears on his first day back from Aria's Cradle. If he was choosing to ignore it now, it was only because he needed time to think...

"This is not a rule easy to work around," Arthur said darkly. "I may not always be there to cover for you."

Merlin leaned his back against the table on which Arthur's armor was resting. "I know. Gaius already warned me. You know it's not _right_, that rule, don't you?"

Arthur bowed his head low, now painfully aware of the huge task before him. "Yes, but he's my father. I will not betray him. And I won't put myself on the throne either; my father's allies would declare war instantly. I'll... think of another way. But you... you have to stay safe... and hidden."

Merlin's lips turned into a half-smile. "I'm still alive, aren't I?"

Arthur's face hardened. "This is serious. I... _Camelot_ needs you. You're the only one with magic who can possibly be on our side."

"All right! I'll be careful," said Merlin with a grin.

Arthur knew that he had to stand his ground. "You won't be using magic at all."

The change in Merlin's face was instantaneous. He threw up his arms in annoyance. "But you just said... What about all of those times when you'll need me to save your royal ass?"

"What about trusting me a little more?" The prince snapped back. "Listen, I'm prepared to make way for you in the face of a _magical_ threat, but if you use your magic for your chores or your own purposes, I'll personally throw you in the dungeons. Understand?"

He couldn't help waving his finger at him. He knew that he was scolding Merlin like a child, but how else was he supposed to act? He still had that defiant grin on his face and Arthur was quite powerless to make him see sense. Against all possibilities, the thing that Arthur Pendragon, Heir to the throne of Camelot, had come to fear most was a world in which his manservant was no longer there besides him. Merlin couldn't die; it was as simple as that.

"You'll make way for me?" asked the young warlock incredulously. "As in… _taking charge_?"

"I'm as surprised as you are," snorted Arthur. "I guess you're not _entirely_ useless, being able to talk to dragons and all that."

A moment of silence passed between them. Arthur could easily tell that this last comment held a lot of meaning for Merlin although the young warlock was not allowing himself to show it. It didn't seem fair to lay this burden on him so soon after his return, but the fact was that he couldn't wait for Merlin to be ready.

"I'm not really the 'taking charge' type, you know," said Merlin in a hushed voice.

Arthur was briefly reminded of his own expression on the day his father had told him that he was to rule over more experienced and older men than himself. He took the time to walk over to stand besides Merlin, nudging him on the shoulder as he leaned against the wooden table.

"You didn't do so bad in _Aria's Cradle_," replied the prince.

Merlin's smile was weak. "They didn't call me _Lord_ Merlin right away. I had to kill a couple of dark creatures first."

"Then you have some experience, which is more than I had, you know, being trained to rule since birth."

Merlin let out a derisive snort and Arthur was glad for the change of mood.

"The knights are all sworn to secrecy, of course," he said in a lighter tone. "Well, all of the knights who are aware of what you are: Percival, Elyan, Gwaine and Lancelot. We'll also have to do something about Leon. We need him on our side. I will tell Gwen as well. But Lancelot… How could you tell Lancelot and not me?"

He was walking around his chambers now and he saw Merlin jump on his feet as well.

"I'm not getting into that," Merlin said smartly. "I am done telling you about all the magic I did behind your back. You'll just have to assume it was me all along."

Arthur felt an outburst of annoyance. "_Merlin_! I will have no more secrets!" he shouted in spite of himself.

But he knew by the way that Merlin was smirking and bouncing around the chambers that he already had his defences up.

"I guess Lancelot is just smarter than you because he found out all by himself," replied the servant.

"I'm extremely astute!" burst out Arthur.

"You were – what's that word? – _dumbfounded_."

"You may have eluded me…"

"Though I'm not sure it really applies..."

"_Merlin_!"

"_Outsmarted_."

_He asked for it_, thought Arthur as he grabbed the nearest goblet that he could find and threw it at Merlin's back. To his surprise, however, Merlin's ear twitched and almost simultaneously he wheeled around, the cup stopping in midair inches from his nose.

Arthur gasped in horror. "That's exactly the kind of thing that cannot happen!"

"Oh come on! I wanted to do that my whole life!"

The prince caught an empty plate and threw it forcefully. This time it hit Merlin on the shoulder.

"That's much better!" cried out the prince with what he hoped was his self-satisfied tone.

"All right!" cried Merlin, rubbing his shoulder. "I'll get your breakfast now…"

"I'm not finished with you yet!"

Merlin stopped near the door, a smug look on his face. "Going to throw something else at me?"

There was one more thing on Prince Arthur's mind. He walked slowly over to Merlin, taking his most solemn air.

"I have a question for you. Two, actually."

Merlin's smile faded. He considered Arthur's serious expression and then he said: "You want to know about Morgana."

The prince nodded. "Is she alive?"

He didn't like the shadow on Merlin's face, as though he was remembering something painful.

"Alive and safe from Morgause. But her mind is fragile. If Morgause gets hold of her again, then we will loose her forever."

Arthur allowed the words to sink in. "Then... there is hope..."

"I didn't say that. There is darkness in her. She's not the Morgana that you remember, not anymore."

"Can I see her?"

Merlin did not even need to think before he replied, as though he had already prepared the answer to that question.

"No, not yet. She's not ready."

"But... soon?"

"I don't know. I will check on her soon and then I'll let you know."

Arthur wasn't entirely satisfied with the answer, but he knew that he would not get more information from the young warlock on that subject. In any case, Merlin was taking charge, and that was good enough for the prince.

"Anything else, Sire?" Merlin let out quietly.

"_Yes_. Where's your dragon?"

Merlin shook his head and brushed a hand on the side of head in a gesture that Arthur had come to identify as anxiety or uneasiness.

"I don't know. I'm working on that. I'm doing all that I can..."

All that Arthur could do was press a caring hand on the young Dragonlord's shoulder.

"You just came back. I'm sure he'll turn up. Give yourself some time, all right? And no more secrets. If something is wrong, you come to me."

Some color seemed to return to Merlin's face. "Are you actually being nice to me?"

Arthur quickly released Merlin's shoulder and nudged him so hard that the manservant almost tumbled over.

Arthur could not help but smile maliciously. "Being Lord Merlin Brittanicus won't save you from cleaning my room, mending my clothes, polishing my armor…"

"_Right_," completed Merlin, and he started to walk towards the door.

"And don't forget the meat."

"Are you sure? Because you look a little... you know... _round_..."

They exchanged a glance. It only lasted a moment, but in that moment Arthur felt as though they were the same again, both of them struggling to be what they were meant to be against all possible odds and obstacles. They were more than distant cousins; they were, for lack of a better word, _brothers_.

Why then did that _clotpole_ have to be so annoying?

"Get that smirk out of your face, _Merlin_, and get me my breakfast. And Merlin? If you ever use magic on me, I'll kill you myself."

All that Arthur Pendragon could do as he stared at the closed door was to smile widely. The questions about Morgana and the dragon seemed of secondary importance. Merlin was back. How could things possibly go wrong?

**Now go to chapter 1**


	2. Chapter 1: Darkest Road

**Chapter 1: The Darkest Road**

################ **Three years later** ##############

Merlin braced himself as he lay helplessly on the cold ground.

"What's the matter, old man? Lost that foul mouth of yours, did you?"

A brutal kick on the chest knocked the breath out of him. The sting shot through his body, announcing that a few ribs had been cracked, or that his lungs had been damaged, but that wasn't even the worst part. The worst pain was not being able to move his eighty-years-old body to show his assailant what he was truly made of.

"I think he's had enough for now, the old fool," snarled the man who had thrown him into the cell. "What do you think Borden will do to him when he finds out he's been in the vault?"

"I guess it depends whether or not he took something," growled the first assailant. He was a large and filthy thug with a dozen small knives and daggers hanging from his belt. Merlin thought in a flash how easy it would have been for him to turn those weapons against the two brutes had he not been an old man with no strength left, not even for a small spell.

"You want my shiny daggers now, don't you?" said the thug. "You want to slit my throat too? Look at me when I'm talking to you! YOU FILTHY OLD TOAD!"

Merlin heard the heavy thuds, saw the muddy boots through heavy eyelids, and knew immediately what was coming. He rolled on his side with his arms covering his face, expecting another beating. An instant later, the heavy man's boot was on his right shoulder blade, crushing his fragile bones, making his thin frame tremor violently.

"Come on! Why don't you try? I'm not stopping you!" spat the thug so close to Merlin's face that he could smell the man's disgusting breathe. _One spell and I could make you swallow those daggers_, the warlock thought angrily. Yet he remained as still as he possibly could, holding his elbows in, closing his eyes and trying to listen to the distant to and fro of the sea. Sometimes, it was just better to play dead, especially when one was a wounded old man.

"That's right. Now you know who you're dealing with!"

"But that's not really us he's got to worry about, is it?" cut in the other guard.

"I hope for your sake that you didn't take anything in that vault, old toad," barked the large thug. "The man you tried to steel from? He's a lot nastier than he looks."

_Julius Borden_, thought Merlin, instantly recalling the image of the young man who had been Gaius' pupil and was now his enemy.

"The same could be said about his new _Lady_," sneered the other guard.

"Keep your voice down! That witch has eyes everywhere."

Merlin's brain became a little more alert. Why was there a hint of alarm in the big man's voice? What did he fear? Or _who_?

"How do you reckon she got those scars on her face?"

The thug's voice was barely a whisper. "I don't know but I wouldn't want to be the one that did it."

Merlin heard the clicking of the keys and then silence.

At least now the mystery was becoming clearer.

There was only one witch with scars on her face and who could inspire fear in the heart of men such as these.

_Morgause_.

He had wondered and wondered how Julius Borden could elude him so easily. The man had showed up in Camelot with a plan and very little means to achieve his goals except his recklessness and an ability to surround himself with large and brainless thugs such as those who were guarding the donjon now. How, then, had he been able to unite al the pieces of the Triskelion and find the hidden lair of the last dragon egg? How had he survived the traps and curse that he caused to collapse?

The answer was undoubtedly magic, but Gaius had made it clear that Julius Borden had no magical talent whatsoever. _Well, at least now we know that he had help_, thought Merlin wearily. But that wasn't actually making him feel any better about having failed to recover the egg instead of Borden.

He was a dragonlord and he had failed. What would Kilgharrah say?

But Kilgharrah wasn't around anymore. Yet Arthur seemed convinced that a dragon egg in the hands of anyone else but a dragonlord did not bode well for Camelot or for Albion. And so they had left Camelot in the night: the young king, a few knights and a servant, all of them wearing nothing but chain mail and black cloaks. They had followed Borden's trail all the way to an old abandoned fortress on a cliff by the sea. The next step had been to strike their enemy, possibly capture him and make him give them the egg, but the plan had taken another turn when Borden had suddenly left in the middle of the night.

And then Merlin had felt the presence of the dragon egg, not with Borden, but deep within the fortress. Why had Borden left without it? The young warlock did not have the whole answer, only parts of it.

It was a logical assumption that Morgause was an essential part of the plan.

But there was also the map. Somehow, Merlin felt that it ought to be connected to the rest. If only he knew how or why.

As a matter of fact, nothing about the map made sense.

He had found the egg. It was safely in the folds of his robes. Why then had he felt so compelled to deviate from his course and sneak into an empty chamber for no purpose except an urge to _look_? Just _look_. Loom inside the cabinet. Look under the bed. And look through a pile of rubbish on a writing desk.

It had seemed such a trivial map first, old and faded, but as soon as he had touched it, he had felt a powerful surge of magic, potent enough to knock him halfway across the room. His frail eighty-years-old frame had taken quite a blow, making it conveniently easy for the guards to seize him only a moment later. Had he fallen into a trap? Had he been under an enchantment?

Arthur's voice seemed to ring in his ears.

_Get in the vault. Grab the egg. Get out. _

His mission had been simple enough. To disguise himself as Old Merlin had been his idea, his own personal touch. Although troublesome to get rid of, the aging spell was the best way to avoid anyone making a connection to King Arthur if ever he was caught.

Secrets and disguises, those two words were enough to sum up the three years since his return from _Aria's Cradle_, the birthplace of the House of the Brittanicus. His House, his origins, his real name, his title, his powers, his accomplishments, all of that had to remain hidden to all but a few. What would Kilgharrah say about this situation? He had no way of knowing. In fact, he had not seen the Great Dragon since the day he had revealed his magic to Arthur and stopped Morgana.

Many things had happened since then. Gaius had taken in an apprentice: an obnoxious scholar named Aurelius who seemed to think he was better than Merlin in every way. Shortly after, Uther's death at the hand of an assassin had placed Arthur reluctantly on the throne. A conflict with Carleon had brought Camelot on the brink of war. Lancelot had committed an act of unimaginable bravery by sacrificing himself to appease a vengeful spirit. Arthur and Guinevere's love had grown and they were now engaged. Yet through it all Arthur's confidence seemed to be wavering and the tensions with the other kingdoms was only increasing.

And there he was, locked up in a cell, a dragonlord without a dragon. True, he had the dragon egg in his possession, but he hadn't the slightest idea what to do with it.

He tried to recall the words spoken by the druid Iseldir. _Only when the road seems the darkest ahead will you have found it._

Merlin rubbed his heavily wrinkled eyelids. _It's dark enough in here so I guess it's a good sign. _

Stretching his senses as well as his weary legs, he realised that it was utterly quiet in the dungeon. Was he perhaps the only prisoner?

The only light was the pale glow of the moon coming through a round hole above his head. Through the small opening, something else caught his attention: a salty smell and a slight tingling in the air.

_The sea. _

Unfolding his arms and legs, he managed to twist his body into a sitting position. He tried to get up twice but the throb on his chest stumped him with violent bolts of pain each time. Standing up completely came with considerable effort and assistance from some loose stones on the wall. He waited a few minutes, catching his breathe, and then he proceeded to hoist himself up so that his eyes could see through the hole.

The star-spangled sky and the ebbing waves seemed to welcome him like old friends. Resting his head on the cold stone wall, he allowed the sound of the sea to fill his mind. He was, after all, not just an eighty-years-old man but a creature of magic whose life was tied to the fabric of the world. He had more and more often the feeling that he was not entirely human, especially when he was seeing or hearing things that others weren't. It was a little unsettling, but the feeling was stronger if he was staring at the sky and he knew exactly why.

He had known the joy and exhilaration of flying on Kilgharrah's back more than once. One day, he knew it, he would fly again and this time on his own.

However, he wasn't going to fly very far disguised as an eighty-years-old man. He needed to recover his strength, if only to be able to reverse that bothersome aging spell. But his breathing was painful, which meant that self-healing would have to come first.

In a few hours, Arthur and his knights were going to rescue him. They would wait for the cover of darkness or the early hours of dawn when all is still and the guards have fallen asleep. And then, there was the small matter of recovering the egg and the map from the place where they were hidden. If Borden or Morgause returned, that would certainly complicate things.

Indeed, he was going to need all of his strength.

And, most of all, his magic.


	3. Chapter 2: Sea Fortress

_**Hi all!**_

_**Thanks for the reviews. Please be patient with me because the updates will come slowly. Busy life and all that.**_

_**In response to a comment about the fact that I've made Merlin a bit too weak… You should know that this story is mostly about Merlin's powers. He's become a bit unsure since the Great Dragon disappeared (this will be explained in the next few chapters). Things will get worst and he'll think he's lost his dragonlord gift. The quest will be to retrieve his gift. And maybe along the way he'll learn more about where his powers come from, and just how far his magic goes.**_

_**So as you can see, I did give it a fair bit of thought before starting off with a "weaker" Merlin.**_

_**I guess what I mean is: keep reading! **_

_**Enjoy.**_

**Chapter 2: Sea Fortress**

_Stupid Merlin, stupid Merlin, stupid Merlin, stupid Merlin._

This was all that Arthur Pendragon could manage to think as he and his knights entered the gloomy dungeon of the ancient Sea Fortress.

"Check every cell! Find him!" the king bellowed to his men.

Elyan and Percival were already working on untying a set of keys from the belt of a large thug. Another guard was lying unconscious nearby and Gwaine did not hesitate to step over the body as he pulled his sword clean of the man's chest. The tall knight gave Arthur a tap on the shoulder and he sped pass the king with long strides. He wasted no time and took the direction of the first corridor to the left.

"He's not in here!" he cried as he looked from cell to cell. His booming voice seemed to bounce off the walls. It was the only sound loud enough to cover the _drip drip_ of the water and the distant rumbling of the sea.

"Are we looking for Old Merlin or _Regular_ Merlin?" said Elyan as he came up hurriedly behind Arthur.

The young king shook his blond head. "Old Merlin," he said between gritted teeth as he peered through the semi-darkness with his torch. "He's probably stuck here because of that aging spell. I swear this is the last time I'm allowing him to use that stupid disguise."

He was cut off by Gwaine's yelling. "He's over here!"

Arthur spun on his feet and ran into the corridor where he knew that Gwaine was. The shuffling of footsteps and the sound of metal over metal told him that his knights were already opening the gate. Only a few more seconds and he would scold Merlin for being a clumsy fool, a lousy spy, a worthless marauder, a pathetic sorcerer…

But his strain of thoughts was cut short by Gwaine's amused voice. "What in Dagda's name are you doing?"

The young king had to wrestle through Percival and Elyan to get a better look into the cell.

The eighty-years-old, white-haired Merlin was sitting comfortably with his back against the stone wall, eyes closed, legs crossed, with his thumbs and forefingers joined together outwards against his chest. He seemed an unmovable object – a statue – even as Arthur and the knights gathered around him.

"Merlin? Can you hear me?" whispered Elyan as he waved his hand in front of Merlin's closed eyelids.

There were a few seconds of silence during which Arthur cursed inwardly. It was infuriating beyond belief that he knew so little about magic. He had years of experience in leading men, training them, preparing them for battle. Yet in the face of the mystery of the thread that connected all life together, the same life he was trying to protect, he was more ignorant than a child. And there in front of him, acting completely like an idiot, was the only guide available, the only teacher he could ever have.

A sudden wailing sound made them all jump at once and look over their shoulders at the empty corridor.

"This place gives me the creeps," murmured Elyan.

"It's only the wind," said Percival.

"We can't just wait for him to come around," said Gwaine with a little more self-control. "We're going to have to move him."

"I'm not carrying him on my back ever again," Arthur said under his breath.

"Percival will carry him," offered Gwaine, clapping the big fellow on the back.

Elyan was shaking his head. "But we haven't got the egg! We could try to retrieve it while one of us stays here and waits for him to…"

"To _what_?" snorted Percival. "Snap out of it?"

Elyan merely shrugged. "How am I supposed to know? I'm not a sorcerer."

"And how do you suggest getting inside the vault _without_ a sorcerer?" snapped Gwaine.

"We steel the keys, of course!" replied Elyan. "We got in here, didn't we?"

"Borden would have the keys," said Arthur, stroking his chin, "and he's not around here. But we can't afford to wait for him to return. We'll be outnumbered by his army of thugs."

"This is our chance then," Percival said resolutely. "We can at least give it a try…"

But he suddenly stopped talking as they heard a loud snort.

"If I can be spared from mindless chatter for more than one minute I will be able to tell you that _you don't need to go back in the vault to retrieve the egg._ Because I've ALREADY GOT THE BLOODY EGG! Did you seriously think I would get all this way _empty handed_? I may be old but I'm not STUPID! Yes, I'm talking to you, _Arthur Pendragon_. You may want to keep _your thoughts to yourself_, once in a while."

The eyes of Elyan, Percival and Gwaine turned went wide in shock and repressed laughter. The king, however, wasn't so amused.

"Don't you… You're not supposed to listen to my thoughts!" burst out the young king. "You swore never to use your magic on me!"

Old Merlin's face immediately contorted thoughtfully. It only lasted a few seconds. Then his wrinkled lips turned into a malicious grin. "It's not my fault your thoughts are so BLOODY LOUD!" he burst out.

"You were listening to us all along," cut in Elyan. "Why didn't you say…?"

The knight didn't have time to finish his sentence.

"I may be eighty-years-old but I'm not DEAF! I was concentrating on a _healing spell_, if you must know EVERYTHING."

Arthur took a long calming breathe. For some unknown reason, Merlin could not quite control his temper when he was Old Merlin and each time it took the young king considerable effort not to strangle him.

He kneeled in front of his friend, hoping to catch the eyes of the real Merlin somewhere beneath all of the wrinkles. "Where is the egg?" he asked, weighing every word.

The old man smiled. "Hidden. I'm quite proud about that bit, actually. But it's going to take a lot of magic to retrieve it, which means that I'm going to have to endure the aches of being eighty-years-old a while longer. Now help me up, will you?"

The walk out of the dungeon was surprisingly uneventful except for an encounter with a few guards. Gwaine quickly disposed of the attackers. The guards had been eating their dinner and Old Merlin had no trouble at all helping himself to a piece of bread while Percival was dragging the bodies out of the way.

Elyan had been leading them through the fortress and he was now pointing towards an opening to their right. "This corridor will lead us on the eastern side and close to the woods where our horses are waiting."

Merlin was shaking his head of shiny white hair. "We don't need the woods," he grumbled. "We need the _sea_." He sniffed the air. "It's that way."

When he wheeled around, Elyan caught his arm. "There's no exit that way. We checked when we came in. It's just solid stone wall and… Ow! Oi! What are you doing? "

The old man was knocking frantically on Elyan's head with his small wrinkled fist.

"Don't mind that! Just trying to knock some sense into _that thick head of yours_!" growled Old Merlin. "I had to find a hiding place for the egg, didn't I? Just get me close to the sea and don't worry about any wall."

With those words, Merlin whipped around, sending his silky white hair all over Elyan's face, and headed straight for a narrow flight of stairs going up into a tower. Arthur did not wait for the knights to make up their minds and he took off after his friend right away. Whatever Merlin was up to, leaving him alone was never a good idea.

They had not been going upwards for long when Arthur bumped into the old man's back, forcing the knights to stop their climb as well.

"As I expected," he heard Merlin murmur under his breath.

"What are you up to?" Arthur let out a little apprehensively.

But Merlin wasn't listening. He was muttering a spell under his breath. Suddenly, there was a burst and a _boom_ and the narrow stairway filled up with a cloud of thick dust. Arthur felt Gwaine's arms grab his shoulder from behind, but his only thought was to go forward after his fool-of-a-servant.

"Merlin, you idiot! What did you do?" cried out the king.

His eyes could hardly see through the dust. _Where the Hell is he?_ Thankfully, the stairs had not collapsed under his feet and with a few strides he was able to get out through that opening that Merlin had seemingly created. The fine powder in his throat was making him cough. He could hear Gwaine, Elyan and Percival struggling to breathe as well. _I'm going to kill him, _thought the young king again for what seemed like the hundredth time since this whole venture had begun. _Why had he allowed Merlin to bring him into this ludicrous search? What was a dragon egg to him anyway? He was the king of Camelot, not a dragonlord, for goodness's sake. _

And then a waft of wind ruffled his hair. A tingly, salty wind.

_The sea._

The cloud of dust had faded away to reveal the starlit night sky. The hunched shape of the old sorcerer who was also his young friend stood a few paces front him, facing the sea. The moonlight was making his hair even whiter and shinier than usual. Both of his hands were stretching far ahead. The words of the Old Religion filled the air.

Merlin's eyes were burning gold.


	4. Chapter 3: Lord of the Sea

**Chapter 3: God of the Sea**

King Arthur brushed mist from his face as he stepped further on the ledge to stand beside his friend and servant. They were on top of a tower overlooking the sea. The broken and crumbling stones seemed to indicate that the tower was no longer being used, being now both too dangerous and too open to prying eyes. Yet Arthur could imagine quite well that it had once been the scene of many battles. A fortress surrounded by high cliffs on one side and the sea on the other would have been impregnable. The fact that Borden had chosen such a hideout for the dragon egg could only mean one thing: he was expecting trouble.

What kind of trouble? The answer to that was easy: _Merlin_.

The incantation took a long time to say, longer than Merlin's usual spells. Through his low sorcerer's voice, he seemed to be commanding to the sea itself. By the time he was finished the water had swirled up into a small storm. The waves were now swelling up almost to the top of the tower. Like a gigantic hand, the water seemed to reach up, grab the stone wall, fall back and then reach up again, each time with a more height.

"Is it supposed to be coming up this high?" said Elyan behind Arthur's back. The wonder in the knight's voice was unmistakable.

And then, with a final _whoosh_, the wave that had been going up and down stopped. It stopped as thought it had been frozen into place. A giant nose began to stretch out of the water, and a chin, and a sizable mouth that could have easily devoured a horse; and then streams of hair with moving shadows trapped inside the many twists and twirls. _Fish_. It was a giant face made of moving water, with hundreds of fish swimming through its hair and beard.

And it was now starring directly at the sorcerer.

"Emrys," said the creature in a thunderous voice. "It has been long foretold that you and I should meet."

"Llyr, lord of the sea," said Old Merlin, bowing slightly. "I am honoured that you chose to answer my call in a moment of need."

The giant eyes seemed to be looking not at Merlin but _through_ him.

"I see layers and layers of secrets surrounding you, but you cannot hide your true self from me."

Merlin stared at his hands, as though he was just remembering that he was still eighty-years-old.

"I do not wish to hide from you, great Lord of the Sea. This disguise is necessary. As it turns out, getting old is easy. But becoming young again is a straining process and I'm always drained afterwards. And I needed to keep my strength up to summon you, my Lord."

The giant eyes seemed to shift. The streams of hair became more agitated. "Your mortal form is but a shell. Surely you must know that by now."

"Broken bones do tend to lessen my abilities," said the old man with a smirk. Arthur was actually surprised not to hear Old Merlin snap some witty retort.

"Then let me lift your burden, for I see that it is greatly troubling you."

The sentence was not even finished that the twirling streams of hair had begun their work. The watery limbs were whipping around Merlin's thin eighty-years-old frame. His white hair faded away, revealing a dark-haired young man whose traits Arthur knew by heart.

Merlin quickly took off Gaius's red robe and folded it hastily into his arms.

"Thank you," breathed the sorcerer with a sigh of relief.

The giant nose came closer to the sorcerer's. "Could it really be? By Dagda… you don't even know who you are!"

"What do you mean, great Lord?" Arthur asked, stepping forward.

The giant face blinked and its water shifted again. "The Once and Future King," thundered the deep voice. "Two great destinies united. One will change the fate of mankind and the other will be a bridge between worlds. It is said that the strength of King Arthur shall not be in combat but in courage and brotherhood. But you, Emrys, are both the peaceful stream and the storm. Great battles await you. What kind of rule you shall have over the other worlds, it is still unclear. What _is_ clear is that you can no longer fail to see the path before you."

Arthur looked sideways at Merlin, expecting to see shock on his face, but he saw was worst, much worst. Merlin looked _scared_.

"I'm already a sorcerer and a dragonlord, isn't that enough? What more do the spirits want from me?"

The giant face seemed to swell before their eyes. "Do not ignore this, Emrys!" said the booming voice. "Even now, dark forces are working against you. You must shed this false shell to become what you truly are."

"But what is he exactly?" Arthur aimed his question directly at the giant face. "Can't you at least tell him that?"

The Lord of the Sea suddenly shifted his giant eyes to peer into Arthur's. "You were born with one name and one destiny, Arthur Pendragon. Emrys has many names and many destinies."

They were interrupted by the sound of swords being drawn.

"If we don't get out of here soon, none of us is going to fulfil any destiny," said Gwaine. "We're all going to be dead before dawn."

It did not take long to Arthur to realise why Gwaine had such a concerned face. The small lights of many torches could be seen moving at the bottom of the tower and towards the woods.

"They're searching the woods," said Percival. "They'll find the horses for sure."

Merlin took a step forward. "I must get the egg back now," he said commandingly to the Lord of the Sea.

Without any further comment, the giant face opened its mouth out wide and out of it came floating a great bubble of foam. Gently, it glided towards Merlin and the young sorcerer caught it delicately in his arms, laying it down gently on top of Gaius's robe. With a faint _pop_, the bubble melted away to reveal the bluish, tear-shaped dragon egg.

There was something else with the egg as well. An old bit of parchment lay folded on top of the egg. It fell like a falling leaf at Merlin's feet.

"What's this?" Arthur asked as he picked up the old and blackened sheet.

"Just… something I found," said Merlin uneasily. "I think it may have something to do with Morgause."

"_Morgause_," repeated the young king, absorbing this new information with some difficulty.

"Do not be fooled, Emrys," the giant said in a fading voice. "You did not find the map. _It_ found _you_."

With a great roar, the Lord of the Sea's watery eyes and moving streams of hair changed back into swirling waves. Where the giant head had been only a splash of water remained.

Arthur sought Merlin's eyes, but his friend was avoiding his gaze. He was too busy carefully wrapping the last dragon egg into Gaius's robe. The old map still lay by his feet, its presence more like a stain compared to the other treasure. Seeing how Merlin was reluctant to pick up the old parchment, Arthur hastily took it and placed it under his shirt.

"Come on, you two!" Gwaine said commandingly. "Time to go!"

The knights were already moving towards the narrow stairway, no doubt making sure it was clear for their king. Yet Arthur could not shake the idea – the rapidly growing idea – that the most important person on the tower with them, the person whose life was more precious than any other's, was not the king's life: it was his servant's.


	5. Chapter 4: Troublesome Destinies

**Word from the author:**

**My number one pairing usually is Merlin/Freya because let's face it: they belong together. **

**But in this story I might **_just this once_** go with Merlin/Morgana. Please don't throw me stones! It just fits with the plot of this story.**

**If you want more Merlin/Freya, you can read **_Merlin: The Loneliest Hour_**, especially the last chapters. **

**Otherwise, please continue reading. And please review.**

**Enjoy**

…**.. **

**Chapter 4: Troublesome destinies**

They rode until well after dawn, until their eyes were heavy and their horses were tired. Getting away from Borden's men had been easy enough. Merlin had conjured small balls of fire – like miniature torches – which he had sent flying south; and then the small group had taken the road in the opposite direction.

At first light, they left the road until they came to a stream. Elyan and Gwaine immediately settled on the task of catching a few fish for breakfast. Percival, on the other hand, threw himself on a soft bed of moss where he rapidly dozed off. Yet Arthur suspected that the knight was only half-sleeping, a part keeping watch for any sign of trouble.

Unlike his men, the young king felt restless. The news that Borden had teamed up with Morgause had stirred some deep emotions and now his mind was working hard on the list of possibilities for such an alliance. Morgause was as powerful as she was cunning. She had manipulated Morgana and turned her against her family and friends. Her sole motivation seemed to be vengeance; not just over Uther's rule, but over the legacy of the Pendragons as well. _Camelot_.

What could she possibly want from a man like Julius Borden?

Borden had already proven that he was as dangerous as he was shrewd. He had managed to get into the vault in Camelot, unaided and unseen, to steel the last part of the Triskelion, the key to finding the last dragon egg. He had killed four guards in the process. Then he had led them into a race across the land, beating them to the hidden tower and succeeding in retrieving the precious dragon egg. Unfortunately for him, though, the last dragonlord had no intention of letting go of the treasure so easily. Merlin could somehow _feel_ the presence of the egg, or rather its distress, as he had called it – and that had been how they had found the sea fortress. Borden must have known that he was being followed; the many traps that they had to avoid were the proof of that. But the stronghold was a safe hiding place; without the help of a certain sorcerer, Arthur would not have attempted to infiltrate it. Not on a whim. And certainly not without an exit strategy.

And then, against all odds, Borden had just… _left_.

Why had he left the sea fortress _without_ the dragon egg? Why not take it with him? What could have possibly been more important than that prize?

All of those questions were packing up in the young king's mind. He was brought back to reality only when he felt the nudge of a horse's muzzle against his shoulder. Nuada, Merlin's horse which he had brought back from _Aria's Cradle_, snorted loudly and Arthur rapidly stepped out of the way.

"_Sorry_," he muttered to the animal.

The beast merely waved its tail in Arthur's face in return.

"Nice to see that you're more polite to my horse than you are to me."

Now it was Merlin's turn to push Arthur out of the way. He was carrying a large pot, firewood, a variety of herbs, and some knives and spoons piled up in his arms. He walked clumsily towards the stream where he set down his load and began to work on building a cooking fire.

Arthur knew enough not to bother Merlin if he was busy cooking. He had once served them a stew, modified by a spell that had made them dance most unwillingly for an hour before it had started to fade; all because Elyan and Percival had called their previous breakfast "tasteless" and "mediocre".

"What do you think you're doing?" Gwaine called after Merlin.

The tall knight strode closer to his friend. Arthur vaguely wondered if Gwaine remembered just how pitiful his dancing had been. They did tend to forget that Merlin had enough magic to turn them all into toads.

"What does it look like? I'm building a fire to make some soup. _Forbaern_!"

The dry wood underneath the cooking pot instantly caught fire. But the knight wasn't impressed at all; in fact, he looked slightly annoyed.

"Hey, Percival!" he yelled. "Stop being useless! Come and take care of this cooking!"

"It is my turn?" grumbled the knight while rubbing his eyes.

"It's not my turn and it's certainly not _Lord_ Merlin's. Your turn."

It wasn't a good idea to argue with Sir Gwaine when he was using that tone. Arthur wasn't surprised to see the stronger knight spring to his feet and take up the task as promptly as he could.

Merlin seemed as put off by this as Arthur was. He gave his instructions to Percival a little reluctantly, and then he got to his feet and seemed to be wondering what to do next.

"_Relax_," said Gwaine cheerfully, grasping Merlin's shoulders and stirring him away from the cooking pot. "Just because we're knights doesn't mean that we can't cook. At least, Percival can. I wouldn't trust me to come up with a decent soup if my life depended on it. You've had a tough day. Just lay back and take care of your egg."

Merlin's frown seemed to loosen a little. "It's not my egg…'

"Of course it is. You're the last dragonlord, and it's the last dragon egg. You're Lord Merlin Brittanicus of _Aria's Cradle_. No one has more claim over that egg than you do. Except, I guess, its _mother_."

With a wink and a toss of his hair, Sir Gwaine swiftly turned back and returned to the spot near the stream where Elyan was tossing his fishing line.

Striding away from the group, Merlin chose a spot in the shades where he took out the dragon egg and placed it on his lap. The young sorcerer looked more troubled than tired. It was the perfect opportunity for the king to try to have a talk with his friend. Merlin didn't even look up with Arthur sat down casually besides him, leaning his back on the same log.

"So… many destinies, huh?" said the young king with a side-glance. "You must think the rest of us are pretty boring."

Merlin only half grinned. "I liked it better when you were the one with the _great destiny_."

"Destinies are troublesome things," mused the king. "Not to mention hugely overrated."

"I'll trade if you want," said Merlin, grinning ever so slightly. "I seemed to remember a time when _dark forces_ were working against you, not me. I'm not sure I agree with this turn of events."

Arthur merely shrugged. "It could be a lot worst. These _dark forces_ don't know who they're dealing with."

In Merlin's eyes there seemed to be something like gratitude. "Thanks… I guess," he murmured.

"I mean it," the king continued. "Although… Does it mean it's going to be my turn to give you the occasional speech about fate and believing? You were getting good at it."

"Your speeches _are_ awful," cut in Merlin with a familiar smirk. "The last one about all the _kingdoms united_? I read it to Gaius and he fell asleep. And _snored_. In his _soup_."

Their eyes met and then they both fell silent. Merlin's fingers were absent-mindedly drawing symbols on the egg's surface. While he was doing it, the air around the egg filled up with tiny beads of light. The young king could almost hear the magic sizzling in the cool breeze.

"Is it working?"

Merlin shook his head and rubbed his eyes nervously. "I don't even know what I'm doing. It's pointless. Maybe I should just go and feed the horses instead."

But Arthur caught his arm. "The horses are fine. Sit down. You don't have to…"

"To what?"

Arthur swallowed. "To be a servant all the time."

He hated to hear the guilt in his own voice, but he couldn't hide how he felt. The truth was that he could hardly stand it anymore. Everyday, Merlin was polishing his armour and mending his clothes, the duties of a lowly servant. He wanted Camelot to be a place where people could be free, yet he was denying that freedom to his closest friend.

"Gwaine's right," he said with the tone that he kept only for serious conversations. "You're a Lord. Not just a dragonlord. A noble bloodline. In my mind I keep trying to come up with ways of making it work, but all my plans end up with you being burnt at the stake. My father's treaties with the five kingdoms are rules set in stone. To acknowledge a Brittanicus, a dragonlord's son, as a member of my court would be tantamount to a declaration of war."

"That's a big word," Merlin let out playfully.

"I know. I've been working on it."

The sorcerer's mood instantly turned gloomy. "I will not be the cause of any war."

"I'll figure something out," Arthur said encouragingly. "But for now the 'layers of secrets' have to remain. Sorcerer. Brittanicus. Dragonlord. Idiot manservant. Well, that one is not that much of a secret…"

Merlin snorted at the joke, but his tone was bitter. "You can cross out _dragonlord_. I can't even summon a single dragon. All I have is an egg and I don't have the slightest idea what to do with it."

Arthur peered into his face. "Your gift is not gone."

"It's been three years…" said Merlin, his voice strained.

His eyes fell on the dragon egg that was still on his lap. His skin suddenly seemed to Arthur to be as white as the egg's shell. The long months of stretching his dragonlord gift as far as he could to find a trace of Kilgharrah were beginning to show on Merlin's face. Yet the circles under his eyes, Arthur knew, were more likely due to the increasing frequencies of his dreams of the future. The young king suspected his friend to be avoiding a good night's sleep altogether, just so he wouldn't have to deal with another vision of the future.

Gaius had associated the Seer's gift to Merlin's dragonlord heritage. However, the notion had brought very little comfort, only nightmares.

Merlin was still staring intensely at the egg.

"You saved the egg from Borden's hands. I think it must mean something," offered the king. "Maybe Kilgharrah will be drawn to it."

The sorcerer pursed his lips. "I just hope he's all right. I have this horrible feeling deep inside… I can't quite explain it."

"Don't look at me," cut in Arthur. "I don't understand half of the things you can do. Your dreams, for instance…"

Merlin glanced at him sideways. "I can't exactly help it. And I don't want to talk about it either."

"And why you blush every time someone says…"

"Don't…"

"_Morgana_."

Merlin's face instantly became red, to Arthur's delight.

"You're blushing."

"No, I'm not!"

The young warlock turned away but his uneasiness was the only evidence that Arthur had managed to gather. Merlin remained closed, even distant, about everything that concerned Morgana. Where he had hidden her was a mystery, so was the question of whether or not she was still a threat, and the possibility of her return to Camelot as Arthur's sister or his doom.

"You do remember that she tried to kill us all," he began to say.

Then seeing the look of pain on Merlin's face he fell silent.

"She's not like that anymore," said the sorcerer. "But with Morgause still around… I don't want to risk it."

"Fair enough," said the young king. "But what about this? You said it may belong to Morgause?"

Pulling the old map out from under his tunic, Arthur offered it to Merlin, but the sorcerer rapidly shifted and refused to touch the piece of parchment.

"It did something weird when I touched it," he explained hastily. "Like it wanted to keep me out. I won't touch it again."

"I'll hang on to it, then," said Arthur, putting the map out of sight.

Then Merlin yawned and Arthur told him to get some rest. He stood up and went to join the others who were almost done cooking the soup and the fish.

This had been a good conversation, but somehow Arthur felt more puzzled then before. The same questions that were haunting his friend were now tormenting him, but for different reasons. Most of all, he didn't like the notion of _dark forces_ working against Merlin. The curse of _Aria's Cradle_ had been evil enough and it had nearly killed him. Between the missing dragon and the nightmare about the future, he feared for the health and sanity of his friend. Was there any peace of mind in Merlin's future?

And then Arthur thought about Gwen who was waiting for him in Camelot, and that seemed to lift his mood a little.

At the same time, under the shadow of a tall tree, Merlin fell asleep.


	6. Chapter 5: Dream of Fire

**Chapter 5: Dream of fire**

Merlin woke up coughing and gasping for air. The heat and the smoke were stinging his eyes. It took him less than a second to realize what kind of situation he was in: the forest was burning. The sizzling and cracking of the flames were everywhere around him. The smoke was already thick, forcing him to breathe in the folds of his arm. He bellowed the names of his friends, but there was no reply. Panic gripped him. Hot, dreadful panic. However he knew that his time was short and that he couldn't give in to fear. He had the power to control the fire, but first he had to make sure he didn't pass out in the middle of a spell.

Through a wisp of flames, he saw the thin undulating outline of the stream. Water would be his salvation. Springing to his feet but keeping as low as possible, he ran towards the river. The flames rose as he sped by, like giant tongues wanting to catch him. He felt a burn on his left arm, but still he kept going. The hope that Arthur and his knights had taken refuge in the stream was enough to give him speed.

His feet hit the water with a splash, slowing down his race against the fiery chaos that was chasing after him. Immediately, he bent down to soak his left arm in an attempt to soothe his ache. But even after a whole minute in water, his tunic remained dried, and so were his boots. And his skin. The water would not even touch his fingers. As he glanced up and down the stream, he realized that the fire had no effect over it. The water still carried various shades of blue and green though the fire was raging on each side.

_This is a dream_, he thought with a jolt of surprise.

He cried out to the others, but there was still no reply. If he was truly in a dream, it was likely that he was alone. He was _always_ alone with eerie voices and ghost-like apparitions; such were his dreams of the future. Sometimes they were not even the future but deep pools of magic that he did not dare enter. Gaius had told him that his dreams were from the Spirit world, and that he should let the spirits guide him, whatever form they may take, but he had had no luck so far. If the spirits were trying to talk to him, then he was failing miserably at hearing them.

Without realizing it, he had started to walk down the stream, guided by its flow. Any path was better than returning into the raging fire.

He was thinking that he ought to wake up soon when a new sound caught his ears: bells. He was hearing Camelot's warning bells.

He broke into a run. With each step, his boots made a splash but his feet remained dried. The outline of the burning forest became a grey and orange blur. He wasn't running; he was almost flying. It was as though he was being carried towards the sound.

He was getting close. The sound was louder now. He slowed down a little and caught a glimpse of the castle's highest tower through the thick grey smoke. Inwardly, he scolded the burning trees on each side of the river for blocking his view.

"Get out of the way!" he shouted in spite of his better judgment.

As though answering to his command, there was a great roar on both sides of the stream and the burning trees parted, writhing and spiting fire as they did. The smoke rose upwards in a swirl as though it had just been blown away by a gust of wind. The fire was still raging, but at least now he was able to see; and what he was looking at wasn't encouraging at all.

Camelot was burning.

The city's walls of stone were still standing, but the houses in the lower town were all in flames. Unnatural, piercing screams filled the air, reaching deeper than usual voices. The highest flames were licking the castle's walls.

Was this _Camelot's_ future? Were its people going to die in the flames? And where was Arthur's in all this? Was he dead or dying?

Unable to bear the thought, Merlin grabbed his head and dropped to his knees. The stream's strange waters swirled around him, keeping him from the fire that was now reaching close to him behind his back. He should have been soaked, but he wasn't even wet.

Except for his eyes. His eyes were letting out little streams of their own.

"What do I do?" he muttered to himself. "Please tell me what do I do?"

"Why so sad, brother?"

The new voice caught him off guard and he jumped to his feet. Through the flames, standing in the raging fire but being quite unarmed by it, was Julius Borden. His defiant grin was the same, but his outward appearance was quite different. Instead of the worn out long coat and mud-covered boots, he was wearing a long black tunic with a collar of grey and white wolf fur.

"Don't call me that," replied Merlin between gritted teeth. "We have nothing in common. _Nothing_."

"Clearly we don't have the same taste in clothes," said Borden while looking at Merlin up and down.

Glancing at himself in the stream, Merlin saw the silhouette of _Old Merlin_, with white flowing hair, a long white robe and red cloak, and a walking stick – a _staff_ – of grey knotted wood.

"This is a dream…" the young sorcerer began to say.

"One of the advantages of being a Shade is the ability to travel between worlds," said the person opposite him. "Some doors are visible and can be – like your dreams – easily opened."

"You're in my dream," said Merlin. He was certain that he _wasn't_ comfortable with that notion. "And you're not Julius Borden."

The other merely nodded and then he started to pace around Merlin. As he did, the flames followed his movements, like dozens of snakes crawling at their master's feet. The stream that had not so long ago been Merlin's path was now nothing but a pool.

"Who are you?" Merlin asked forcefully.

His opponent smiled but did not reply. "The way Morgause spoke about Emrys, I thought you would be taller, older, more impressive. But you're less than ordinary, are you?"

Merlin felt more annoyed than insulted. "Did you come into my dreams to insult me? If that's all you're after, then you should have gone to Arthur. I'm sure he would be happy to assist you."

"Pendragon?" snarled the other. "Don't be ridiculous! Pendragon doesn't interest me. The Pendragons lost the dragonlord gift long ago. My plans are way more ambitious, especially for you."

"I'll never…"

"Join you?" Borden finished for him. "But you are _already_ one of us. Your name. Your heritage. Your magic. Do you really think you will ever be accepted in Camelot? _Never_. But the reign of insignificant men – mortal men – is over. The Age of the Dragonlords has begun. It will start with Camelot, but my rule will reach everyone in all four corners of Albion. You shall have Camelot if you want, or _Aria's Cradle_. Why shouldn't you? You're a dragonlord like me."

"All the dragonlords are dead," Merlin said sceptically. "I am the last one."

"Didn't I tell you I'm a Shade? You and I both know that death isn't the end; though if I have to – _if you give me no other choice_ – I shall send you to meet _your_ end."

"Who are you?" Merlin insisted.

The only answer that he got was a cruel laugh and a wave of roaring flames. He took a step back and almost stepped into the fire, most unwillingly. The pool of water was slowly fading away.

"Think about it, Merlin!" cried out the black dragonlord. "If you make the right choice, you can find me in Camelot. If not, then you and Borden will have a lot in common."

The flames reached a peak in intensity, swirled around the other man's silhouette for a while, and then swallowed him. Yet Merlin knew that he was not gone. He had merely removed himself from the dream.

The burning forest was closing in fast. The pool of water had shrunk to a puddle. The smoke was so think the he could hardly keep his eyes opened.

_Wake up_, he told himself.

It wasn't working.

And then, out of the blue, he heard a new voice. A voice that he was longing to hear. One that he would give his life for. One that just a few minutes ago had called their destinies _troublesome things_.

It was the most important voice in the world. And it was also the most annoying.

"_Merlin_, wake up, you idiot!"


	7. Chapter 6: Wisdom and Consequences

**Chapter 6: Wisdom and Consequences**

Merlin woke up coughing and sputtering from the bucket of cold water he had just received on the head.

"What the Hell is wrong with you?" bellowed the king. "We've been yelling at you for ages. This was supposed to be a short stop. It may have escaped you, _Merlin_, but I am the king and I do have to get back to my kingdom some time soon."

The young sorcerer blinked from the bright sunlight. His eyes seemed to have trouble focusing. They were still stinging from the smoke. But how could that be since it had been only a dream? Unless it had been more than a dream. Borden had been _inside_ his mind; there was no doubt about that. _Julius Borden is not Julius Borden anymore_, he thought. _He's a Shade. The Shade of a dragonlord. Why then did he abandon the last dragon egg in the sea fortress? And why did he say he was in Camelot?_

"Your horse did the craziest thing," Gwaine said eagerly, cutting Arthur off in the middle of his scolding. "When you fell asleep, it got you a blanket. The horse. From the satchel on another horse's back. And he came here to lay the blanket down on you. I've seen some crazy things – most of them your doings – but this was the strangest, most miraculous thing I have _ever_ seen. Are you sure that horse is really a horse at all? Merlin?"

He was standing with the blanket on his shoulders, water dripping from his messy dark brown hair, when a sudden sting on his arm made him wince in pain. Gwaine and Arthur caught him on each side as the blanket slipped off to reveal a blackened hole on his tunic and a fresh raw wound just below his elbow.

Gwaine's eyes were wide in astonishment. "That's a nasty burn. Wherever did you get a burn like that?"

He was having some difficulty gathering his thoughts. The fire had only been a dream, yet he felt short of breath and dehydrated as though he had just inhaled a lot of smoke. And why did he have that burn? It didn't make sense…

"Water…" he finally breathed out.

Percival immediately brought a small bowl of fresh water from the stream. The others merely stood in silence as Merlin poured the cool liquid over his wound and started to look for a cloth to cover the burn.

"We have to get back to Camelot," said the young sorcerer while Gwaine was tying the bandage around his arm.

Arthur's face went white. "Why? What did you see?"

Merlin closed his eyes, trying to recall the images and the words spoken. "Borden," he said. "But he wasn't Borden. He was something else. A Shade. He called himself a dragonlord. And he said he would be waiting in Camelot."

"There are several things I do not like in this statement," said Elyan with a glance at the others. "What's a Shade?"

"A dead person's soul possessing a living body," said Gwaine.

"Dark magic," Merlin added gloomily. "I could feel it. Even now… things just feel _wrong_ somehow."

Arthur was staring at him with great concern. "You got all that from a dream?"

Merlin did not even bother to nod. This was the part that he hated most about his magic being known: the looks of complete bewilderment on everyone's faces.

He started to gather his things, using the blanket to wrap the dragon egg safely in it. Before he was even finished, his horse – Nuada – was already standing close and waiting.

"Wait! Am I the only one getting that this could be a trap?" cried out Elyan. "This guy said that he would be waiting in Camelot."

The young sorcerer did not even care. He jumped on his horse instead. "I don't know what I saw, but if it was the future, then we have to get to Camelot right away. Flying would be better."

"That's enough for me," said Gwaine, clapping Elyan on the back. "Let's just get there and see what happens."

As they were all gathering their gear and mounting their horses, Arthur came closer to Merlin.

"You're thinking about your dragon, aren't you?"

Merlin peered into the young king's face. "A dragonlord Shade. A missing dragon. I would be stupid _not_ to think about it. But if he is a dragonlord and he has Kilgharrah under his command, then I can tell you that we'll be in big trouble."

"But you're a dragonlord too," Arthur pointed out.

Merlin's eyes narrowed and he seemed to be thinking about something far, far away.

"When I was in _Aria's Cradle_, Galahad spoke of the Five Dragonlord Houses. Veronus and Brittanicus were allies, great lords, owners of large lands and keepers of the peace. The name of Bagatelle was mostly known among scholars. They lived in hiding and in fear of their powers. The Pendragons lost their gift generations ago when it failed to pass down from father to son. As for the House of LeNoir, there was a conflict with the other houses which escalated into a war. The final battle happened in _Aria's Cradle_ and ended with my grand-father killing the last of the LeNoir."

Arthur was shaking his head. "That wasn't in the Book of Dragonlords. How do you know this?"

"Galahad," replied Merlin. The image of the shabby-looking and limping knight popped into his mind. Galahad had been his first ally in _Aria's Cradle_, and a good friend. He missed their long talks sitting on top of the stronghold's highest tower. "According to Galahad, the war wasn't even the worst part. The last of the LeNoir was a power-hungry tyrant who used dragons as his personal army. So to stop him, the other dragonlords – with my grand-father at the lead – had no choice but to kill LeNoir's dragons, thus breaking the most sacred of the dragonlords' rule. Galahad called it 'the dragonlords' darkest hour'. The war was won, but the consequences…"

He let his words trail, trying to fight an image of dead dragons lying on the blood-soaked earth.

Arthur leaned in closer. "There's never any winner in a war, you know. Just a larger kingdom and more pain and sorrow to fill it."

"Wow, that's actually… _wise_," said Merlin with a smirk.

The young king smiled playfully. "That's been known to happen."

"I guess that leaves little for _me_ to do in time of need."

"There's still plenty for you to do. You can scream like a girl or hide behind a tree."

"That was so I could do magic without being seen!" cried out Merlin, outraged.

They were cut off when Elyan drove his horse between them. "Oi! I said we're ready," cried out the knight.

A wave of foreboding suddenly swept over the young sorcerer and his mood became gloomy again. Nuada, his horse, was hammering his foot on the ground impatiently.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" said Arthur directly to Merlin. "We could take a more secret road and arrive under the cover of darkness. Or you could use the aging spell again…"

Merlin wheeled his horse to take the lead. "No disguise," he said without further explanation. "Let's fly."


	8. Chapter 7: Friends of Camelot

_**Reviews are appreciated.**_

_**Enjoy.**_

**Chapter 7: Friends of Camelot**

They rode as if they were racing against time. Every obstacle that they met was swiftly taken care of by Merlin. All that he had to do was to say a few words in the Old Tongue for a river to allow them passage, a muddy road to become dry, or a fallen tree to roll out of the path. Normally, King Arthur would not have allowed his servant to use magic so openly. However, at the present time, he knew better than to start again on that argument with the young sorcerer.

The truth was that he was really running out of arguments. As he watched Merlin move a boulder so that they could cut across an open field, the young king was stricken not by the display of power, but by his friend's ability to lead. He had heard of it during his short stay in _Aria's Cradle_. Now for the first time in three years since being back, he was finally witnessing it first hand.

As they stepped into the field, a smell of freshly cut hay filled Arthur's nostrils and he sneezed loudly.

"Some farmer you would make," laughed Gwaine.

Only Elyan's face remained stern. "Speaking of farmers… Our presence will not fail to be noticed on these open grounds. Are you sure you want to go this way, Merlin?"

The knight had addressed his query directly to the servant, and not to the king. Yet, somehow, Arthur found that he didn't mind at all.

He brought his horse closer to the sorcerer. His eyes were locked on the horizon.

"It's still faster than staying on the road," Merlin replied. "Besides, we're at the far eastern end of Camelot. For you Gwaine, that's about one hour on foot to the White Water Inn."

"The innkeeper makes a great stew," said the knight, a wide smirk on his face.

The others smiled but Arthur tried to remain serious. "I agree with Elyan," he said. "If there is trouble in Camelot as you seem to expect, an open field makes us easy targets for arrows."

Merlin glanced sideways at the king. "Anything shooting at us isn't much of a threat. I can conjure a shield that's quite effective. I'm more worried about… I don't know but it's something else."

"Can you give us any hint?" said Gwaine while loosening the straps of his sword.

Merlin hesitated. "I just hope I'm wrong." And then he kicked his horse into a run.

Arthur and the knights took off after him. The long grass whipped at their horses' flanks. They had to stop when Arthur's horse sank knee deep into a pool of mud that they had not seen. It took all of Percival's strength to pull the white steed out of its precarious situation. All the while, Merlin was pacing on his stallion and glancing nervously towards Camelot.

Dusk was drawing near when they sighted a settlement at the end of the field. It could not even be called a village. There were only four houses with a large farmhouse in the middle, all of which were protected only by a crumbling wall of stone.

As the riders came nearer, there was oddly no one to meet them. The doors of the houses were shut and the windows veiled. A single cooking fire was still burning under a small pot just a few paces inside the circular fence.

"Hmm. What is that wonderful smell?" said Gwaine, leading his horse nearer.

Percival quickly caught his arm.

"That's the smell of a trap, my friend," murmured the strong knight between gritted teeth. "Let's keep a safe distance, shall we?"

Arthur unsheathed his sword and his knights did the same. The ring of the metal blades filled the air, breaking the tense silence of the empty field. Merlin was the only one without any weapon in hand. His grandfather's sword was still strapped to Nuada's saddle.

_He doesn't need any weapon_, thought Arthur, with sudden realisation.

"I have a bad feeling about this," whispered Elyan. "Maybe we should try to go around."

Arthur did not even bother to reply. He had already decided on his course of action. He quickly jumped off his horse and lowered his sword so that the tip was touching the ground.

"We mean you no harm!" he cried out, hoping to catch the farmers' attention. "We are…"

He was cut off by a loud and ferocious yell followed by a dozen men who all came bursting out of the five houses. While only a few had swords, most of the men were holding their pitchforks like spears. They were not thugs, but simple farmers. Yet, in Arthur's experience, free men protecting their land were more deadly than mindless brutes.

Elyan, Percival and Gwaine were quick to react. They had already brought their horses side by side in front of the king and they were preparing to charge. As determined as the farmers were, they would be no match for knights of Camelot.

It was all happening to fast. The attackers were already running wildly with their would-be spears aiming at the knights and their horses. On the other side, the knights seemed as ready to die for their king as ever.

"Wait!" Arthur bellowed as loud as he could. He was surprised to hear Merlin's voice cried out with him in unison, but he couldn't see his young friend anywhere.

What happened next was quite unexpected. Halfway between the attackers and the knights, a figure appeared in a cloud of sand and dirt. His feet were planted firmly – and stubbornly – on the ground.

_Merlin, you idiot_.

The sorcerer stretched out his right hand. "Stop!" he bellowed on top of his lungs.

To Arthur, it seemed as though the world was slowing down. _That's it_, he thought instantly. _His magic. It's revealed. It's done_.

The thought made him dizzy. His mind filled up with questions and doubts. What would his people think of him? Would they ask for Merlin to be brought to the pyre?

He couldn't help but stare in shock. The attackers slowed down and finally came to a halt. One of them was actually so close to Merlin that the tip of his pitchfork brushed against his tunic.

"You!" cried the front runner. He glanced at Merlin up and down. "You're not one of those bandits."

"We're friends of Camelot," said Merlin, not even bothering to move the pitchfork away from him. He pointed at Arthur and the knights. "All of us. We're not a threat to you or your families."

The tallest of the attackers, a muscular fellow with a mane of long white hair, gestured for the others not to lower their weapons.

"You're not with them, but it doesn't mean that you're worthy of our trust. The men we saw had their faces covered. All dressed in black. Armed to the teeth. They passed on the main road and killed all who stood in their path. My son" – he glanced back and Arthur suspected that it was to hide a look of pain on his face– "he may not make it. We will not be killed like cattle by that witch Morgause and her followers!"

"Morgause? Did you actually see her?"

Arthur stepped forward to stand next to Merlin. The white-haired farmer was still pointing his pitchfork at the young sorcerer's chest.

"We didn't see her, but we've heard of her. Power and revenge is all that she cares about. She will see that the people of Camelot are ready to die for their king."

"Long live King Arthur!" cried out the farmers all at once.

Arthur shook his blond hair with a nervous hand.

"What about the boy? Can we talk to him?"

The tall farmer was eyeing Arthur and the knights suspiciously, his pitchfork still aiming at Merlin. He had such a fierce look on his face that he could not be as old as he looked.

"How do we know you're not spies? Or here to do her biding? Kill us all as soon as we let down our guard?"

"I like him," said Gwaine, a little too cheerfully. When he saw that the others were rolling their eyes up, he added: "He's got good instincts. Very knight-like. What do they call you, good man?"

"Caius," replied the white-haired fellow. "Kay, for short."

"Show me the boy," said Merlin out-of-the-blue. "I have some healing skills."

He had barely finished his sentence when a woman came running through the crowd, pushing her way until she came next to Kay.

"For goodness' sake, let him, Kay! He's dying! Ulfius is dying! Our only son!"

Arthur's eyes met Merlin's and he knew right away what was on the young sorcerer's mind. He wouldn't let this boy die.

The man called Kay was so much in shock upon hearing of his son's worsening condition that Arthur had no problem lowering his pitchfork and taking it out of his hand. Merlin immediately took off in the direction of the long farmhouse and he almost knocked the cooking pot as he ran.

The light was dim in the farmhouse and the air tense with sorrow. From the women's stern looks and red eyes, the wounded boy might have already drawn his last breath. They had laid him on a long table with his shirt wide open to reveal a narrow whole in his abdomen. The skin around the wound was a dark shake of red.

Merlin immediately went by the boy's side. He checked his pulse and eyelids in the way that Gaius had so often done it.

"He's alive, but only just," he murmured to Arthur. Then to the women he said: "Who cleaned this wound?"

The white-haired man, Kay, and his wife were standing at the foot of the table. "I did," said the woman in a shaking voice. "Please tell me I didn't kill my son."

Merlin lowered his eyes. "No, you did well."

Arthur stepped closer to his servant. "What's wrong?" he asked in a hushed voice.

The young sorcerer was pressing his hand on the boy's brow, eyes closed, as though he was _feeling_ his condition rather than assessing it.

He cracked his eyes open to stare at Arthur. His voice was barely a whisper. "The wound's too deep. He's bleeding inside. I can't heal him without magic. You have to find some way to get these people out."

His first impulse was to glance at the crowd around them, but Arthur fought against the urge and kept his eyes locked with Merlin's instead.

"Do it," he said.

"But… they'll _see_."

"It doesn't matter. Just do it."

Merlin took a long calming breath. Then he turned his face upwards. When he lowered his gaze, his eyes were burning gold. He spoke the words in the Old Tongue with a voice that was barely recognisable. The boy's skin on his lower body suddenly started to glow from the inside.

A few seconds later, the wound had vanished, the glow had receded and the boy was opening his eyes.


	9. Chapter 8: No more secrets

**Chapter 8: No more secrets**

"Mother?"

"Ulfius, my son! My darling! You're alive! Thank you! Bless _you_, sir!"

While the women were crying freely, a few of the men were looking less than enthusiastic. Before Arthur had a chance to react, a young farmer grabbed Merlin from behind, drawing a few drops of blood as his dagger pressed on his throat.

Gwaine, who was very close to Merlin, could have taken the young man out easily, but Arthur signalled for him to step back. He needed to gain these people's trust, not kill one of their own.

"What are you doing?" cried out Kay. While his left hand was resting on his son's arm, his attention was fully oriented towards the potential conflict.

"That was magic! Friends of Camelot would not be concealing a sorcerer. Isn't it obvious? They're traitors! They're with _her_!"

"No, we're not…" Arthur began to say.

Kay cut him off. "How dare you? This man saved my son's life! I don't care how he did it. If you kill him, you'll have me to deal with. Don't you know what a debt of honour is?"

Even without his pitchfork, the white-haired man looked fiercer than anyone Arthur had ever met. The young man seemed to consider the idea – and his chances of survival – and his grip on Merlin slackened a bit.

This was all it took for Gwaine. With a quick trick, he wheeled the young man around, knocked the dagger off his hand and pressed the hilt of his sword on his throat. Merlin stumbled a little and Arthur caught his arm.

"All right, Merlin?" said Gwaine, tossing his long hair to glance at his friend.

A sudden silence fell on all of the women and farmers.

"Merlin?" said Kay's wife with wonder in her voice. "Are you really _Merlin_? King Arthur's servant?"

"He couldn't be," said the young man who still had Gwaine's sword locked on his chest. "He couldn't be King Arthur's servant and a sorcerer. That's just not possible."

"Looks like you're famous, my friend," said Elyan with a smirk.

Arthur took a step forward. Taking out his sword, he placed its tip on the ground so that it stood before him like a cross.

"It's true," he said ceremoniously. "He is my servant. And he is a sorcerer. He's also a brave man – one of the bravest I know – and a loyal friend, and I will challenge anyone who shows him anything but respect."

At these words, Gwaine released his hold on the young farmer. Kay and his wife stepped forth. Their son Ulfius rose from the table to stand beside his parents. The women and the other farmers joined in behind them. All of them stood rooted on the spot.

It was Kay who broke the silence. "King Arthur," he said solemnly.

Then all of the villagers dropped to one knee to show their allegiance.

"Rise, friends of Camelot," said Arthur while he was sheathing his sword. "It is I who should bow and ask your forgiveness."

Elyan came closer to his side to whisper to his ear. "Shouldn't you be saying that they're all sworn to secrecy?"

Arthur shook his head. "No. I'm prepared to deal with the consequences. No more secrets, if that's all right with you, Merlin. _Merlin_?"

As Arthur's gaze fell on his friend, what he saw made his heart skip a beat. Merlin was leaning heavily on the long table. The color had been drained from his face and he had a far off look, as though he was seeing something that wasn't there.

Both Arthur and Gwaine had to say his name several times to catch his attention. When he did glance up at the king and the knight, there were drops of sweat on his forehead.

"Kilgharrah," he murmured. "I can _feel_ his presence. He's showing me things, but shutting me out at the same time." He took one shaky breath. "I have to find him. _Now_."

Without any further explanation, he wheeled around and ran outside. The others were just too stunned to stop him. Arthur meant to go after him, but he was held back by Kay's firm grip.

"My Lord," said the farmer. Then, seeing Arthur's glare fell on his arm, he withdrew his hand. "I apologise, Sire. I'm not one for protocol and such."

"Speak your mind and do it quick," Arthur replied imperatively.

While he was talking, he gestured to Gwaine to head out. The knight nodded in understanding and left.

"If you ride to Camelot head on, you will be caught," said the farmer.

"What do you suggest?" snapped Elyan.

The white-haired man lifted his chin. "We have horses and we can fight. Let us ride with you, my Lord. My son and I. I owe it to Merlin."

Arthur couldn't help but grin.

"Then I can't really leave you behind, can I?"


	10. Chapter 9: Darkest Hour

**Chapter 9: The Darkest Hour**

If he had been riding any faster, he would have been flying.

_I could really use some wings right now_, Merlin thought desperately as he wheeled his horse around a particularly large tree.

With each one of Nuada's strides, he could feel Kilgharrah's presence increasingly. It was as though someone was trying to squeeze a dark cloud into his mind. That darkness was blocking out everything else. Even his dragonlord voice, the one that was hidden deep within his soul, seemed out of reach. As he rode, he kept trying to use it, but with no success.

_Come on, old friend_, he said into his head. _Tell me what's happening_.

The only reply that he got was a vision of burning flames and a sharp pain in his skull. His horse whinnied nervously. Merlin shook his head in an effort to clear his mind and then he kicked harder.

"Almost there," he said encouragingly to the stallion.

If he could just get on top of that hill, he would get a good view of the city and then…

Suddenly, Merlin pulled his horse to a stop. He could only stare in horror at the scene before him.

The city walls and the towers of Camelot were still standing. They were not burning like in his dreams. Yet this fate was – if possible – _worst_. Dark creatures, giant bats with wings that looked like they were made out of smoke, were flying in circle on top of the citadel. They were at least seven of them. Some were as large as Kilgharrah, and some were actually bigger. Each beating of their wings was followed by a twirl of smoke. It was blocking out the light of the fading day, making the sky blacker and blacker. With their giant claws, the monsters were making sweeps into the fields, throwing off the people that were running from the city: picking them up and dropping them like cattle. As their ferocious roars filled the air, Merlin could only draw one conclusion.

_Dragons_.

But these were no ordinary dragons. They were creatures of nightmare. They looked part flesh and part smoke. Their scales had no colors like Kilgharrah. Their skeletal body seemed to be covered by a thin black skin.

As he stood on top of the hill, one of the creatures wheeled its head and Merlin caught a glimpse of its eyes: they were burning red.

Panic. Sheer panic and overwhelming dread were invading Merlin's mind now. He felt so numb that he could hardly move. The darkness was not only in the sky, it was getting inside of him as well.

_Kilgharrah, where are you_?

As though answering his thoughts, an enormous set of wings swooped just over the hill, grazing the top of the trees at the foot of the hill. Then with a familiar whooshing of wings and thumping of four powerful legs, the Great Dragon landed in the shadow of the trees.

Turning away from the horrible scene of the dark creatures flying over Camelot, Merlin jumped off his horse and ran down the hill where Kilgharrah was waiting.

"Where have you been?" Merlin asked without further ado.

The dragon lowered its long neck. "We do not have much time, young warlock. I have done my best to keep you hidden from this new dragonlord, but now I fear that he can feel your presence as much as I can."

"The Dragonlord Shade," replied Merlin.

The Great Dragon nodded.

"He came to me in a dream," continued the young sorcerer. "He wanted me to join him. He's not Julius Borden anymore, isn't he? He's someone else. Someone from the House of LeNoir."

The Great Dragon's head swooped even lower so that the creature of magic and the sorcerer were facing each other.

"René LeNoir," acknowledged the dragon. "It is the name that will bring Camelot to its knees and destroy the dream of Albion."

Merlin could only stare back at the Great Dragon, feeling the dread like a weight on his chest. Was this _it_ then? Had all his efforts been for nothing? How could _this_ be the end?

"I am sorry, young warlock," said the dragon in a low voice. "Even _I_ cannot resist the will of a LeNoir. They were always the most powerful of the dragonlords."

_The dragonlords' darkest hour_. The words spoken three years ago by Galahad, far away in _Aria's Cradle_, seemed to hold a whole new meaning. A generation ago, Merlin's grand-father, Lord Brittanicus, had forsaken a sacred rule in order to stop his enemy. The Houses had united to destroy LeNoir and his army of dragons. Now the same foe had returned. And the only person remaining to stand in his way was a lowly servant with some magical skills. The last of the dragonlords. It was the darkest hour indeed.

They were _doomed_.

He shook his head in an attempt to get rid of the idea. He couldn't give up. Not for Albion. Not for Arthur.

"But… where have you been for the last three years? Just a few days ago, there was no LeNoir. Why didn't you answer my call?"

The Great Dragon let out a low growl. "When we flew away with Morgana, just before you went to _Aria's Cradle_, the witch Morgause followed us. It wasn't long after our parting that she found my lair and tied me up in chains, like Uther had once done before her. Then she used her dark magic to keep me restrained. She only let me out when she knew that LeNoir could control me. I have no choice but to obey his will."

Several loud roars filled the air and Kilgharrah's whole body tensed, having probably just received a command.

"What about these other creatures?" cried out Merlin, hoping to get just a few more answers, "What are they?"

"Dragon Shades," said the dragon in a low rumbling voice, as though he was speaking about something forbidden. "Dragons who died a thousand years ago. Dark magic brought them back to do LeNoir's biding. They are merely shadows of their former selves now."

There was such sadness in the Great Dragon's tone. For Merlin, it was just another impossible task before him.

"Then they cannot be killed," he said under his breath.

The Great Dragon stretched out its great wings. "Nor should you try, young warlock," he said compellingly. "Even with a sword forged in a dragon's breath. Such wraiths are gatekeepers of the Other World. Destroying them will only bring other evil creatures into this world."

Merlin's mind burst with images of dark shadows flying over all the land and blocking the entire sky, even the sun. He took his head in his hands and pressed his fingertips against his eyelids, trying to force the vision out. What was this dark cloud forcing its way into his mind? Was this LeNoir's influence?

_Wake up, Merlin_, he told himself. _You're stronger than this_.

"What must I do?" he cried out shakily. "I can't just give up! All those people! Is there a way to defeat LeNoir? Any way at all?"

He knew very well what he was implying.

"Dark magic is a dangerous path, Merlin," said the dragon elusively. "That is not what you are."

"I'm a dragonlord like my father…"

"No!" bellowed Kilgharrah so forcefully then he rose from the ground. "If you seek to destroy, young warlock, you will fail. Do not take the easy path. It is against your nature. Do not forget who and what you are."

Kilgharrah's body tensed again and he let out a long and painful howl. The long wings spread out, covering the young sorcerer in their shadow. The powerful head turned to the sky above and then back at Merlin. The black eyes were so full of sorrow, and also they seemed to be asking for something. Was it forgiveness?

Seeing the Great Dragon endure so much grief was almost unbearable for the dragonlord.

"This is not your fault! This is _Morgause's_ doing. I will find out how she did it and I will stop her. I promise you."

"_Merlin_…" the Great Dragon began to say.

But he couldn't finish his sentence. Something that Merlin could not see was putting strain on the Great Dragon.

"You will be free again," said Merlin, clenching his fists. "I swear it."

Kilgharrah let out a long growl. "I cannot resist him any longer. _Run_."

Merlin took a step back. "What?"

"RUN!"

The cry turned into a roar. The blast of fire came directly at Merlin. All he could do to avoid it was to throw himself on the ground and roll under the flames. When he sprung back to his feet, he saw Kilgharrah rising above his head and the powerful jaw opening again.

"_Gescildan_!" he cried with all of the strength he could muster.

The magical shield appeared in front of him just as the flames erupted from the creature's mouth. He felt the heat under his palms and on his brow. He had never conjured such a powerful shield before, and yet it wasn't enough to keep the Great Dragon at bay. Kilgharrah was charging again and again. Soon, the entire hill would be on fire, and from there, it would spill over towards the fields just outside of Camelot, killing everything and everyone in its path.

The Great Dragon's voice filled the air. "Forgive me, young warlock!" Then a gust of wind sent a wave of flames in Merlin's direction. His feet moved backwards on the muddy ground. Above his head, he saw the outline of the powerful creature flying back towards the city. Drops of sweat mixed with tears obscured his sight. His hands were shaking. His strength was wavering. He couldn't maintain the shield any longer. Everything was going to burn. Himself included.

"MERLIN!"

Whoever was behind him had appeared in a flash. Before he could even see a face, something heavy fell on his back. A cloak. A cloak soaked in water.

The coolness was a blessing. So were the strong hands that stirred him through the flames. Up the hill they went, where the air was more breathable. A new sound filled his ears: They were the panicked screams of men and women of Camelot fleeing the city.

As he dropped the cloak and stared at the scene, Merlin knew that his task was not over yet. The people of Camelot had escaped one nightmare; now they were running into another.

And he was the only one who could stop it.

After all, he was the only one with magic.


	11. Chapter 10: Galahad returns

**Sorry for the long time between updates. Real life and all that.**

**I hope you enjoy…**

…

**Chapter 10: Galahad returns**

The familiar face was peering at him.

"_Merlin_! They are safe! The citadel was already empty when they took it. I knew they were coming and I rode as fast as I could. I arrived a few hours before they did. The Queen, the old physician, the knights: they are all safe! Do you hear me?"

The strong grip on Merlin's shoulders relaxed a bit and he was able to get a better view of this newcomer: the worn out traits, the long messy hair, the hunched shoulders…

"Galahad," said Merlin, amazed at seeing his old friend from _Aria's Cradle_.

They hugged briefly and then their attention returned to the people of Camelot. Many could be seen running through the fields and towards the hill. They would soon reach the top and realise that there was nowhere to go.

"You can make it rain, can't you?" asked Galahad, pressing a caring hand on his shoulder.

Merlin coughed. The sting of smoke and smell of burning wood was making him dizzy.

"It won't be enough," he replied to the knight.

Turning towards the fire, he raised his hand to the sky and bellowed, "_Tídrénas!_"

There was a crash of thunder and a rumbling up above. Suddenly tiny raindrops fell on Merlin and Galahad's hair. The drops became a heavy rain and finally a downpour. What was fire and heat quickly turned into a thick black column of smoke.

Yet, though he had made the hill safe, the forest beyond still showed signs of flames rising above the tree tops in other areas. Sparks of orange clearly showed that those woods were a death trap.

Merlin's chest felt too tight. _Not nearly enough_, he thought, glancing around in despair at the burnt trees. He could make it rain for days, put out all the flames, yet the damage was already done. The fire had destroyed the cover of the forest.

"I don't know which I like better. Burned or drenched," said Galahad, shaking his wet hair. "You're doing what you can… Oh! Look who's found us!"

Merlin wheeled around to see his horse Nuada striding through the smoke.

"He's the one who showed me where to find you," said Galahad while stroking the stallion's long mane. "That horse, he knows more about you than_you_ do…"

But he was cut off by renewed screaming. This time Merlin did not need to look. These were not the dragon wraiths unworldly screams. These were the shrieks of men fighting for their lives and the panicked sobs of women and children

"FIRE! Fire in the woods! We must turn back! FIRE!"

Merlin barely had time to think that the people had already started to run back towards Camelot. However, it wasn't a safer destination at all.

His glance followed Galahad's. The knight had spotted this new threat first. A line of armed men, all dressed in black, had taken position outside of the city wall. They formed a deadly barrier. Nothing and no one was going to get through that gate.

"No!" yelled Merlin, in spite of his better judgement. "Come here! The hill is safe!"

But the people of Camelot were running blindly towards their enemy. In all the chaos, with the ominous shadows lurking overhead, what else could they do? They were like a trapped herd.

"I will not stand here and do nothing," Merlin said resolutely.

Before Galahad had time to react, Merlin had jumped on his horse and he was galloping down the hill, ahead of the crowds. Nuada seemed to know what he wanted to do before he had even made up his mind about it.

The stallion sped pass the frightened runaways and brought Merlin near the city gate. The young sorcerer touched ground and proceeded to send the horse away.

"This is my fight, my friend," he whispered to the horse's ear.

Nuada stamped his hooves in protest, but after Merlin repeated the command, the steed finally gave up and left.

The sorcerer knew that behind his back, the people of Camelot were running towards the wall. In front of him, a line of men in black – at least fifty of them – were aiming their sharp swords threateningly in his direction.

He took a few steps forward towards a particularly large man in the middle of the line and who also happened to be right in front of the main city gate.

"I will not let you harm these people," he cried out with as much self-assurance as he could.

He took a long breath to steady his nerves. _Just imagine that you're Arthur_, he told himself.

"_What_ have we here?" snarled the large thug. "Is that a knight? Anyone can make a knight these days, even scrawny farm boys. Or are you a man yet? It's not easy to tell."

The sound of derisive laughter filled the air.

"If you charge against these people, you will die," Merlin said quite seriously.

"Are you threatening me?" said the large man. "You're the one who's going to die. In fact, I'll make you my first kill." He turned his eyes towards the wall where a sole cloaked figure seemed to give him an order with a glance.

Then he flashed a mouthful of crooked teeth at Merlin and bellowed a single command.

"CHARGE!"

With many growls and roars, the black men took off from their position.

But Merlin had been expecting this. In fact, he had been counting on it. His plan could not work otherwise.

Muttering the incantation under his breath, he gathered as much magic around him as he could. He called upon the powers of the earth on top of his voice. That alone was enough to make some of the thugs slow down their attack. Elemental magic was Merlin's strongest power. He had shaped it to his will many times before. It could turn a cloud of smoke into a galloping horse. It could turn heat into fire. It could turn water to ice.

And now he was going to shape something bigger. _Much_ bigger.

The world around him seemed to slow down even as the army of thugs was almost upon him. He dropped to his knees to touch the ground with both of his hands. Then, concentrating all of his will upon the earth, he forced his magic to enter the dirt, to snivel through the cracks, to make its way in rock and stone. Down and around, he sent his magic. Like a drop of water following a tree trunk. Like a tiny ant making a home in the sand.

He lost track of time. He was feeling the dirt with his hands, burying his fingers in dust, hearing the sounds of every grain of sand moving underneath. It must have been seconds for the world, but for him it was a small eternity.

Then the angry roars of the mob turned into a loud rumbling. The ground began to shake. Tiny grains of sand and larger boulders alike were vibrating. The rumbling soon became a thunder; not from above, but from below. It crashed again and again, covering all other sounds. Then suddenly, a white light shot from Merlin's fingers and straight into the ground. It shook his body violently, making him almost loose consciousness. But he had to stay focused; otherwise he could cause the destruction of Camelot. He had shaped the elements before, but not quite like this. Turning all of his will on the earth underneath his hands and knees, he forced the light into it. He felt the effect before he even saw it. Under his command, and with a sound like an earthquake, the ground in front of him broke apart. Quick as lightening, the crack shot on both sides, following the walls of the city, bursting with an intense white light. The charging thugs began to turn back with panicked screams while the people of Camelot stopped their frightful race. The ground was opening up in front of their eyes.

As he heard the final crashing noise, Merlin knew without seeing it that the crack had run its course around the city. The circle was complete. It was now a trench, snivelling around the city walls, deeper a man's height and at last as wide as three horses in single file. At the bottom of it, a thick mud was already settling. It would take days just to build a bridge over it.

Someone screamed. "Sorcerer!"

Merlin looked up to see Morgause, her hood thrown back and her finger pointing directly at him.

"People of Camelot! Behold! A sorcerer in your midst!" Her eyes flashed full of hatred.

The next moment, she was surrounded by archers. Her hateful glared turned into an evil grin.

"Kill him."


	12. Chapter 11: Light of the Dragonlord

**Chapter 11: Light of the Dragonlord**

He had the spell ready in his mind. If he could just catch his breath, he would be able to say the word…

Then another familiar voice boomed into his ears.

"I wouldn't do that, Morgause."

_Arthur_, Merlin thought instantly.

As he cranked his neck, he saw that the king wasn't alone. All of his knights rode beside the king, swords in hand. Behind them, two dozen armed guards were aiming their bows at Morgause and her men.

"Brave words!" the witch bellowed from the top of the stone wall.

"It's more than words, Morgause. One citizen of Camelot alone has more courage than all of your thugs put together."

"None of that will save you now, Pendragon!" the witch cried out.

A dark shadow swept over their heads, obliterating the light of the stars. Merlin glanced upwards and saw the many outlines of the dragon shades, each of them as impressive as the next. The dragons were circling above the city like vultures. Angry roars filled the air. They were ready to attack. Merlin's entire body tensed as he felt again the dark cloud filling his mind, making it hard for him to think and to move. Somehow, he had to break free of that dark spell.

Thankfully, Arthur seemed determined to keep the conversation going.

"You're trapped, Morgause," he said with an extra amount of self-arrogance. "You took a city that you can no longer escape." He glanced at the trench that Merlin had made with the look of child who has just received a new toy. "The people of Camelot have flown," he continued. "You have no claim on the throne. What do you hope to accomplish now? Come forth and you can offer terms for yourself and for your men."

Merlin couldn't help but glance back at Arthur and throw him a look that had you've-got-to-be-joking written all over it.

"_Terms_? How dare you?" spat Morgause. "Maybe your eyes are not wide enough to see that this is not the end. It is only the beginning."

She turned her eyes upwards towards the herd of dragon shades. The dark creatures were more agitated than ever, slashing their long tails and flashing their enormous teeth at the people gathered below. These monsters were predators. There was only one thing keeping them from committing mass slaughter: a dragonlord's will. But not _any_ dragonlord. _One_ dragonlord. _LeNoir_.

_But where is he_? Merlin thought to himself.

He felt the imposing presence before he saw even saw him. Borden – who wasn't Borden anymore – had appeared besides Morgause. His face was concealed under a black hood, but Merlin did not need to see his face to know who he was. The dark cloud pushed even further into his mind, making it painful just to keep his eyes open. It was dark magic, darker than he had ever felt. He was paralyzed. He couldn't even get up.

"I'm here, brother. You have this one last chance to accept my offer and I urge you to take it," cried out a cavernous voice.

There was a kind of compelling force in his voice and it made Merlin cover his ears in an attempt to shut it out of his mind. It seemed to be speaking outside and inside of him all at once.

"We will create a world where the likes of us will rule. It will be a better world, I promise you. You do not need to suffer. You can become one of us. You _are_ one of us."

"He will never join you," snorted Morgause, before anyone else could reply. Her arrogant grin turned into a hateful snarl. "But he _will_ die. Most painfully. And right after, I will pluck his soul from the Afterlife and make him suffer again and again until he tells me _where he hid my sister_."

At those last words, she leaned forward and Merlin saw the fury in her eyes. The dragon shades roared even louder and the young sorcerer braced himself for the worst.

Morgause's hand shot upwards and a bolt of lightening pierced the night sky, causing the dragons to scatter. She was gathering dark magic to herself. The next bolt would hit him for sure.

"Galahad! Get him out of there!" yelled Arthur's voice behind his back.

But Merlin's eyes had caught something else through the black smoke above the city. Kilgharrah was flying in circles above his head. _This may be my last chance_, he thought resolutely.

The sight of his old friend seemed to have given him an outburst of self-confidence. He wheeled around to face Galahad who was riding Nuada in his direction. Quickly, he raised his hand in warning. Before Galahad could even react, Nuada had pulled to a stop. The steed stamped its hooves nervously.

"Wait! I need to try this," said Merlin, more to himself than to anyone else.

"Do you think you can outmatch me?" laughed a cruel voice. From the top of the stone wall, the other dragonlord, LeNoir, was peering at him as though he was nothing but an insect to be squashed.

Merlin refused to answer to the taunt. What he was preparing himself to do was similar to voluntarily stepping through raging fire. Gathering his will, he reached down into his soul, to the part where he would find the voice of the dragonlord. He could feel LeNoir's influence, like a black veil on his powers, but the blackness had not completely covered everything. There was still a tiny speck of the dragonlord's sacred gift in there, and without hesitation Merlin took hold of it.

_Hear me! Dragons of the Ancient Times! Brothers_! he bellowed with the cavernous voice and speaking in the Ancient Tongue. _This_ _is not your realm. It is nothing but a prison. Be free of that evil hand! Return to the Afterlife from where you came! Be at peace! _

Then the tiny speck was gone, completely obliterated by LeNoir's dark powers. The dark cloud had forced itself entirely into Merlin's mind. The dragons roared. Had they heard him? Would they rebel against their master? Merlin felt so weak now that he could hardly lift his head.

"Pitiful!" LeNoir cried out from the stone wall though his voice reached much further. "You'll have to do better than that. Then again, you _are_ just a Brittanicus. You inherited those powers merely by chance. You'll never be worthy of the true gift…"

He did not finish his sentence. Gathering what was left of his strength, the young sorcerer did the only thing that he could against such dark magic. He had done it before to free Morgana from Morgause's influence. He had done it again in Aria's Cradle to destroy the Shadow that was hiding in the Black Lake and free the valley of a terrible curse. This time, however, he was going to free himself.

Calling up the image of a pure white light in his mind, he pushed it forward; not towards LeNoir, but towards the mass of dragon shades that were flying over his head. He didn't even know why he was doing it, but it seemed natural that he should send his most powerful magic against the darkest force out there. Like before, the surge shook his whole body. The light came out of his open palm, illuminating all around him, making him feel like he wasn't quite a man anymore but a creature of pure magic.

Morgause and her men disappeared behind the stone wall with muffled cries of terror. The outline of LeNoir lingered a while longer, but finally dropped out of sight. There was a great rush of wind and smoke as the dragons retreated as well. Last to leave was Kilgharrah whose mighty wings brushed the ground next to where Merlin was standing.

_Do not loose hope, young warlock_, said the Great Dragon. _You are more powerful than you think_.

Merlin was still pondering on the meaning of Kilgharrah's words when he felt someone grab him by the shoulders and hoist him up on a horse's back. He felt so weak that his head immediately fell on the stallion's muscular neck.

_The dragon is right, you know_, said a voice in his head.

"I can hear you speak," Merlin muttered under his breath.

But then his eyesight became blurry, his body became heavy and limp, and he slipped rapidly out of consciousness.


	13. Chapter 12: A New Fate

**Chapter 12: A New Fate**

The Castle of Ancient Kings had not been so vastly populated for many, many years. Indeed, in the last twenty-four hours, the place seemed to be reborn from a long slumber. There were now torches on every wall. Servants were walking back and forth, bringing in supplies in the form of food and blankets. The Knights of Camelot, easily visible with their long red cloaks, were equally as busy, assigning duties to the guards and receiving reports from the many patrols.

From the Round Table where he sat, Arthur was glad to see familiar faces around him. Guinevere, radiant in a forest green dress, was walking around and handing out blankets to women and children. Gaius was there as well. The old physician had set up a sick ward of a dozen beds for the injured. The beds were now filled with wounded men who had been mostly burned. Presently, Gwaine and Elyan were bringing a young guard with bruises like claw marks on his face and neck, but at least his life was not in danger. Overall, there were few casualties. Many of the farmers had flown, but they were coming back little by little, having really no where else to go. Even Leon seemed happy with this turn of event; he kept welcoming more and more people with a warm handshake before showing them where they could find food and shelter.

The old ruin was becoming very crowded indeed.

"What are you so happy about?"

Arthur smiled broadly as he heard Gwen's soft voice. She was walking towards him with a basket under her arm.

"I'm happy to see _you_ safe and sound," he replied with a grin. "And Gaius. And _everybody_. The city may be taken, but the people of Camelot are safe, which is all that matters."

"We really owe it to Sir Galahad," said Gwen, bowing her head and still clutching her basket. "He came out of nowhere, but I knew him from the account you made of your trip to Aria's Cradle. Apparently he had been spying on Morgause for a while. He arrived just a few hours before she did. He warned us just in time."

She shifted her load on her other arm.

"You don't have to do that," the young king said softly, his gaze falling on the basket.

Gwen blushed slightly. "I thought you might be hungry."

"_Starving_. Thank you very much, my Lady."

Arthur and Guinevere had not noticed Sir Gwaine's presence near the Round Table. Before either of them could react, the tall knight had taken the basket from Gwen's arm and he was now lying down the content in front of the king.

"Time for lunch, is it?" Elyan said merrily as he took a seat opposite the king.

Moments later, most of the knights had joined them at the table. Percival and Leon tucked in as well, both of them carrying enough mead for everyone.

"Should you really be eating at _that_ table?" Gwen breathed out.

"Why shouldn't we? It's a _table_, isn't it?" replied Gwaine with a mouthful of cheese.

There was only one item left in the basket but Gwen swapped it from under Gwaine's outstretched hand.

"Don't even think about it," she said playfully, putting the small parcel out of sight. "It's for Merlin."

"He's been hiding long enough," said Elyan. "He should come and eat with us."

Arthur couldn't help but cut his piece of bread a little sharply.

"If he wants to skulk then let him skulk," he said between gritted teeth. "He's bond to come around soon. And we need him to have his wits about him when he does. If he has any wits left."

Arthur glanced rapidly around the table and saw no reaction to his joke, only concerned faces.

"I've never seen him so miserable," muttered Gwaine.

"He shouldn't be," Elyan said a little edgily. "No one _cares_ that he has magic. He's still Merlin."

Arthur saw Sir Leon glance in his direction meaningfully. The news of Merlin's magic had travelled fast and it was becoming the cause of much heated debate among the people of Camelot. Since the Purges, magic had been regarded with suspicion and fear. Those with magic had been shun out, persecuted or burned at the stake. Arthur didn't expect his people's opinions to chance in the blink of an eye. However, as the Once and Future King, he had no intention of allowing anyone to show Merlin anything but respect. In fact, he had never been so certain of anything else in his life: Merlin would be accepted in Camelot as a sorcerer. If he had to make it an official decree, then he would. It was time for a new king to change that _stupid_ law.

His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of an old friend.

"Galahad! Where have you been hiding? Join us!" said the young king, indicating a seat.

Galahad took the empty seat between Arthur and Gwaine, while Guinevere gently swept out of sight.

Arthur allowed his eyes to follow Gwen a while longer, and then he returned his attention to his guest.

"What news from Aria's Cradle?"

His tone was more friendly than formal.

Galahad was helping himself to a large piece of bread as he replied. "To be honest, I don't really know."

Arthur made no effort to contain his surprise. "What do you mean?"

"I left that place only a few days after you did. Merlin's decision to return to Camelot had some consequences for me. I had long been meaning to find out if there were any dragonlords from the other houses left alive. I had hoped that he would join me on that quest. But since he chose otherwise, I took it upon myself to make the journey on my own."

Arthur was stroking his chin. He had only been half-aware of this choice that Merlin had made. It wasn't really his place to interfere. But fate, it seemed, had taken another turn for Galahad.

Yet from the worn out traits on Galahad's face, he knew right away that his search had not brought the desired results.

"And did you find anything?" he asked.

Galahad shook his head of long, brown and grey hair. "I found only empty halls and crumbling tombstones. What was left of the five dragonlord houses was really destroyed during the time of Uther's Purges. Begging your pardon, my Lord."

Arthur stood back on his seat, straightening his back. "You do not have to ask for my forgiveness. I know very well what my father has done. It will be my quest it seems, to make it right."

At that comment, that other knights looked up and exchanged a few smiles.

"And Morgause," Arthur continued. "How did you come by her?"

"In an old castle where I thought I would find the tomb of the last of the LeNoir," said Galahad in a low voice. "She took something from the tomb, a piece of old parchment it seemed, and then she left. She did not see me so I followed her. I didn't really know who she was until she met with the other fellow, Borden, and they began talking about the last dragon egg and the dragonlord that would help them with their ultimate plan. I thought Merlin might be in trouble so I followed them to a hidden lair. She took Borden deep within the caves of Balor and she began a sort of ritual. It didn't feel right so I decided that it was time to go. But I got lost in the caves and that is where I found _him_."

"Who?" Arthur asked.

Galahad peered into the young king's face meaningfully. "The Great Dragon."

Gwaine put down his tankard of mead with a loud _clank_. "She had him all this time," he said between gritted teeth.

Galahad too had a look of dismay on his face. "At least the Great Dragon was able to tell me of their plan. It was too late for me to stop her from using Borden's body to bring back LeNoir's soul. And from what Kilgharrah told me, the dragon egg was useless to them without a dragonlord to make it hatch, but he feared that Morgause might be tempted to bring other creatures from the world of the dead. So the only thing left for me to do was to go to Camelot and to warn King Arthur and Lord Merlin of the impending attack."

Elyan almost choked on a mouthful of bread. "Sorry. I keep forgetting about the whole _noble_ thing."

Galahad looked at him crossly and then continued. "Imagine my surprise when I arrived in Camelot and was told that the king was gone on a mission with a knight and a servant. Luckily, Percival was there and he took me straight to the Lady Guinevere. She ordered the complete evacuation of the city almost right away. She's the one who saved your people, my Lord, not me; I was only the messenger."

Arthur was still stroking his chin thoughtfully. "We were only trying to retrieve the egg. We didn't know that it was merely a small part of the plan."

"A diversion, maybe?" Leon put in.

Gwaine seemed to agree. "A way to keep Merlin busy."

Arthur dropped his hands on the table. "Well, it worked," he concluded. "The question is: what can we do about it? What are our options?"

The knights seemed to all be thinking along the same lines, but none of them could offer an answer.

"How much does Merlin know about all of this?" Gwaine asked Galahad.

"I've told him everything that I told you."

Arthur was thinking and he knew that his men were thinking it as well: this was a foe that would require Merlin's magic more than ever. Now they needed him to be the sorcerer that he was always meant to be. It was his new fate to be the protector of Camelot; not secretly but for all to see. And that couldn't be an easy thing to assimilate all within one day.

"Where is he now?" said Leon after a moment of silence.

"Hiding somewhere," muttered Arthur with a pang of sympathy, though he was trying to hide it. "_Skulking_."

"Who's skulking?"

All of the heads at the Round Table turned at once towards the newcomer: Merlin. None of them had seen him approach. There were so many other servants going about their business in the large chamber that he had made his way towards the table undisturbed and unnoticed. However, now that he had made himself known, several of the people glanced at him and took a few steps back, a distinct look of awe on their faces.

"I think I liked it better when people didn't know I had magic," he said under his breath, taking a seat on Arthur's right. "And I wasn't _skulking_."

"You _were_," snapped Arthur.

"No, I wasn't!"

"Yes, you were!"

"I can turn you into a toad."

Arthur shifted on his seat. "You… I forbid you to do that! And into any kind of animal for that matter!"

Merlin's grin was very annoying. "Then I wasn't skulking."

Arthur merely snorted. "What _were_ you doing then?"

Merlin helped himself to a large piece of bread. "Talking to Gwen. And practising," said matter-of-factly. "Something I've been putting off for far too long. There's a bit of magic that I wanted to try."

At that comment, Merlin received many side-glances from the people nearby.

"You have a plan then," said Gwaine who seemed a lot calmer now that Merlin was at the Round Table.

The young sorcerer sucked in a deep breath. "Yes, but he doesn't include any of you."

"Like Hell, it doesn't!" snapped Gwaine, his temper rising again.

"No," said Merlin in his most resolute tone. "This is my quest. I must do it alone."

Arthur shifted on his seat, a half-grin on his face. "That sounds familiar," he muttered under his breath.

"_No_," cried out Merlin more loudly. "You're all needed here. You can't…"

"You're not going anywhere without me," cut in Gwaine. He looked at Arthur cunningly. "And I seem to be remembering something about Strength, Courage and Magic."

"And Wisdom," put in Galahad. When he saw Arthur raise an eyebrow, he added: "I know more about the dragonlords than even _he_ does."

The many determined faces around him gave King Arthur a new sort of conviction, something that has a king he had only dreamed of having. These people who were now sitting at the Round Table were not only wiling to give their lives for him; they were looking out for each other. He could depend on them, no matter what. It was a very rare gift for a king.

"We're leaving in the morning," he declared to the group.

"No…" the young sorcerer began to say.

"_Shut up_, Merlin," Arthur continued. "And if you decide to get smart and leave unnoticed, we'll follow you anyway."

The servant opened his mouth to protest, but as he glanced at the many resolute faces around him, he decided that it was no use and he rolled his eyes up instead. "_Fine_," he said, crossing his arms.

"Sire, we'll have to find some excuse to explain your absence," Leon put in.

Merlin's wicked smile at that comment made Arthur really uneasy. "Oh I have a better idea. _Trust me_."

"It's settled then," concluded Galahad. "We cannot bring any banner with us. We must travel anonymously and no one should know our quest. Now we should all go and get prepared."

"Great!" Gwaine suddenly cried out as he rose from the table. Then he stopped for a moment and added, completely clueless: "Where are we going?"


	14. Chapter 13: To The North

**Chapter 13: To the north**

All of the preparations had been made except for one.

Gwaine, Galahad and Arthur had all put on travelling clothes. For Galahad, it barely meant that he had tied his long brown and grey hair at the back of his neck and hidden the crest from Aria's Cradle, a golden dragon wing, in the folds of his black cloak. Arthur, on the other hand, was barely recognisable in brown coat. As for Merlin, he had covered his regular tunic with a thick grey cloak on top of which he had strapped his grandfather's sword and sheath that he had brought back from his trip three years ago. It was of very little use to him as a servant in Camelot, but outside of the city he always carried it wherever he went. It was a way for him to remind himself that he was, after all, a Brittanicus.

"I hope this plan of yours doesn't involve too much of wielding that sword," Gaius said softly as he joined the group for the final stage of their departure.

They were all standing at the far end of the cave, in a narrow entryway concealed by thick bushes. By squeezing through the rock, they would exit on the other side of the woods with a good enough chance of leaving unnoticed. The guards had been removed to allow them some privacy. Besides the four riders, only Gaius, Gwen and Elyan were present.

"You'd be surprised at how good a swordsman he actually is," Gwaine replied fondly, with a side glance at Merlin.

"Nothing surprises me anymore," said the old man.

Merlin allowed himself to grin for a while although his mind was buzzing with questions and a certain dread. Gaius seemed to understand his state of mind as he chose this moment to give him a warm fatherly hug.

Nevertheless, Merlin was having a very hard time calming down his trembling nerves. He had thought about what he was about to do all night, trying to think of any other option, but it seemed it was the only way. For the last three years, he had thought about nothing else. Now it was finally time…

He was brought back from his reverie when Gaius pulled out a bright orange gem on a long golden chain.

Arthur eyed it suspiciously. "I've seen this before," he whispered.

"In the _mêlé_," confirmed Gwaine. "Going back to the moment of our meeting, if I recall correctly."

He was most likely remembering the tournament where he had saved Arthur's life. The orange stones had been discovered around the neck of the two slain thugs who had attempted to the prince's life.

"You're quite correct," Gaius acknowledged.

"Didn't my father tell you to put them in the vault?" Arthur burst out, outraged.

Gaius merely shrugged. "Not _specifically_, Sire. He never actually _ordered_ it. Merlin and I decided they would be better guarded _elsewhere_."

"And where is that?" Elyan asked, amused.

"Under my bed."

The young sorcerer knew very well the kind of reaction that he would get from Arthur after that assertion.

"Of course!" burst out the king, throwing his hands in the air.

"There's actually a floor panel…"

But Arthur wasn't listening. "What a great idea! Let's put _all_ of the content of the vault under _Merlin's_ bed! Why didn't I think of it?"

"He's being sarcastic, isn't he?" said Galahad under his breath.

"I'm just curious as to _what else_ he keeps under there," replied Gwaine.

"You should _all_ be happy that Gaius thought about it when he was told to evacuate the city," Merlin pointed out as seriously as he could.

Then, without warning, he grabbed Arthur's hand and, with the tip of one of Gaius' small knives, he made a tiny incision in the king's hand.

"Ow! What do you think you're doing?" burst out the king.

Merlin kept on grinning, knowing that it would annoy Arthur the most. "Relax, _Sire_. I just need a bit of your blood. You are so _grumpy_ today," he said merrily.

Arthur's face became instantly red. "_Grumpy_?"

But Merlin's attention was turned towards the orange gem now. The words that he was now chanting came from his Book of Magic. However, it was _his_ magic, more than the words in the Old Tongue, which would make the spell work.

As soon as he was done, he turned around sharply and placed the jewel around Elyan's neck. The effect was instantaneous. Under everyone's petrified looks, the young knight's appearance melted away to be replaced by a perfect imitation of King Arthur.

"_No_," breathed out the real Arthur, shaking his blond head. "I won't allow this. You _knew_ I wasn't going to allow this!"

"This is so _weird_," breathed out Guinevere who had been silent up until now.

She was glancing nervously from the real Arthur to her brother who now looked like Arthur.

"I'm… not me," murmured Elyan while looking at his hands over and over.

"You're King Arthur," said Galahad, pressing a hand on the knight's shoulder.

Gwaine was having a hard time not to laugh in Arthur's face.

"Is it like when you turn into yourself into an eighty-years-old man?" asked Elyan, slightly panicked.

"No," Merlin replied plainly. "It's an _illusion_. If you take off the necklace, you will be yourself again and the magic will cease to work."

Gwaine was patting the fake-Arthur on the back. "Just do what King Arthur would do. Order people around. Look concerned while starring at a map. Tell Leon to break out the ale. And it's not even awkward if you hold Gwen's hand because she's your sister."

Merlin glanced at Gwaine with a smile on his face. "Exactly my point. Elyan is the perfect choice."

On that comment, he gave one final farewell hug to Gaius and he turned around to leave. The others seemed quite satisfied with this plan because they began to move out as well.

He had not dared to Arthur's face but he knew that the young king was _fuming_.

"Does anyone care at all what I think about all this?" he cried out in a high-pitched shriek.

Gwen was fast to react. She took Arthur's face between her hands and pressed a kiss on his lips. The embrace was long enough that it gave Gwaine and Galahad the time to slip out of sight.

"Come back quick and it will soon be only a bad memory," Gwen whispered in Arthur's ear.

Memory. The word brought back a wave a doubt to Merlin's mind. What was he _doing_? Could he really risk bringing Arthur along?

As he followed the rocky wall to join the others, he heard Gwen's soft voice. "Take care of him, Merlin," she whispered. "And take care of yourself. He needs you."

Outside of the cave, the light was dim. It wasn't even dawn yet. Gwaine and Galahad were already on their horses.

"Don't think I'm letting you off that easily, Merlin," said the king, glaring at him.

Gwaine snorted loudly. "He _is_ kind of grumpy, wouldn't you say?"

But Merlin wasn't listening now. He had turned his thoughts towards his horse Nuada and the long days of riding ahead of them.

_We need to make haste, my friend_, he said in his mind's voice.

The stallion shook his head and stamped its hooves. _I'm not surprised_, he puffed. _Is that why the Once and Future King looks so upset?_

Merlin merely laughed. It was simply ludicrous. He could talk to his _horse_. He had no idea what kind of sorcery or spell was at work, but it was as unexpected as it was amusing.

"Instead of laughing like an idiot, why don't you tell us where we're going?" growled Arthur.

"Later," replied Merlin.

He then kicked his horse, which was the signal for the others to do the same. One behind the other they rode, with the young sorcerer in the lead, until well into the morning before any of them spoke again. After a few hours, the trees became small and scarce and soon enough they were riding on open fields.

At midday, they stopped to eat the lunch that Gwen had prepared for them. Several times, they asked him to know where they were going, but still Merlin could not bring himself to reveal this information just yet. There was too much explanation to give, and he wasn't ready yet. The truth was that he wasn't even sure of what he was hoping to achieve. Against Morgause and LeNoir, he was a very poor and inexperienced sorcerer. What spell did he know that Morgause had not mastered already? How much knowledge did LeNoir have of the sacred dragonlord gift? After all, all he could do was talk to dragons, nothing more.

He had always felt very alone, but this whole situation was bringing his loneliness to a whole new level.

And perhaps this, more than anything else, was the reason why he needed to do what he was about to do: he didn't want to be alone anymore.

"Still lost in your reverie?"

He had not even noticed that Galahad was starring at him.

It was now dark, on the second day, and they were all sitting around a small fire, having eaten the rest of the food that Gwen had packed for them. Tomorrow they would have to hunt or catch a few fishes.

"It would have helped to know how many days we should have planned for," said Gwaine grumpily as he took a bite of the last apple.

"Don't worry. _Merlin_ will do the hunting," said Arthur with a sneer on his face.

Galahad distinctively gave Arthur a disapproving look but he said nothing.

"I reckon there must be an inn nearby," offered Gwaine cheerfully. "Where there's a road, there's an inn."

"You're assuming that we'll keep to the road," retorted Galahad.

"We have so far," said Arthur blankly.

He had been in a fowl mood since they had left and not knowing where they were going was only making it worst. Merlin suspected that he would soon have to receive some kind of object thrown at his head soon if he remained quiet.

"We're following the road for a few hours tomorrow, and then we turn north. By nightfall, we'll have reached our destination," he said calmly. "If we don't stop too long at the inn."

Galahad peered at him inquiringly. "There's nothing up north around here."

Arthur looked even more concerned. "It's King Lot's kingdom. He's not a friend of Camelot."

"Perhaps he should be," replied Merlin, throwing a handful of herbs into the fire to make it spark. "The only reason why he was never welcomed in Camelot was because he allowed his people to keep their ancient traditions."

Arthur opened his mouth to protest, but Gwaine cut him off. "The Old Religion lives up north, that much is true, Sire. I've heard rumours. There's a monastery where people go to pray. People of _every_ religion. Praying to many gods."

"A _monastery_?" said Arthur, thoroughly irritated. "What does that have to do with us?"

"_Everything_," Merlin whispered suddenly, his eyes fixed on the fire. "That's where we're going."

"There's nothing up there!" cried out the king.

Merlin took a few long, calming breathes before he spoke.

"Yes, there is," he finally said. "We're going to see Morgana."


	15. Chapter 14: Morgana

**Chapter 14: Morgana**

For a moment, there was no other sound but the rustling of leaves and the cracking of the fire.

"_Morgana_," Arthur whispered.

Gwaine was absent-mindedly twiddling with a small branch. Merlin could remember that the knight had called Morgana "beautiful" three years ago, while seeing her for the first time. From what the young sorcerer knew, it was likely that he would find her more than beautiful now. She had definitely improved. Perhaps Sir Gwaine would even be attracted to her…

Merlin quickly pushed the thought at the back of his mind. He couldn't dwell on such an idea at the present time. There were more important things at stake.

"Didn't she try to kill you and King Arthur?" asked Galahad, a disapproving look on his scarred face.

The sorcerer could only stare at the fire. "Yes," he whispered. Seeing the three questioning faces around him, he added: "It's not like that anymore."

Gwaine broke the small branch he was holding with a loud _crack_. "You trust her, and yet you know what she is."

There was no mistaking the bitterness in Gwaine's tone.

Merlin allowed himself a few moments before replying. He rubbed the side of his forehead, thinking. Anything concerning Morgana was confusing. He knew that he _shouldn't_ trust her, but at the same time he could not just abandon her. She was a creature of magic and like him she was alone. Kilgharrah had called her "the darkness to his light". But there was also good in her. They were more alike than everyone seemed to think.

"What _is_ she, exactly?" Galahad asked, a little at a loss.

"An evil witch," spat Gwaine.

"… Who also happens to be my sister," Arthur corrected with a scolding look at Gwaine. "Step-sister, to be exact."

Galahad was shaking his head in dismay. "You shouldn't take dark magic so lightly, Merlin," he said softly. "Remember what the curse of Aria's Cradle did to you. It was killing you slowly, like a poison."

Merlin could only stare at him. "But this is not a curse. It's a person. It's…_Morgana_."

Gwaine snorted derisively. "You're completely blinded by her!"

Merlin sprang to his feet and began pacing nervously around the fire. He knew that all eyes were on him and he could no longer bear the stares.

"What aren't you telling us?" murmured Galahad.

The young king was more poised and he waved at Galahad to be patient. Of course, Gwaine completely ignored the gesture.

"I can see what's happening, Merlin. It's written all over your face. It's only normal. You're a young man. She's a beautiful woman. But you're smarter than that. Have you considered that she may be using you to get to Arthur?"

Merlin paused, stung by Gwaine's comment. He had never seen the knight so stern. Yet Gwaine's opinion was certain to change once he knew the whole story.

"Have _you_ considered how much Lord Merlin has sacrificed for Arthur? For Camelot?" Galahad snapped unexpectedly.

Gwaine looked thunderstruck. "Well, no… I'm just saying…. Sometimes the power of a beautiful woman can be stronger than magic."

The knight from Aria's Cradle grinned at that comment, and then he turned his attention to Arthur.

"What about you, my Lord? Ever been tempted by beauty?"

Arthur's face took a slightly pink shade. "Only the beauty of my future wife," he whispered. Then, more seriously, he added: "There were rumours when I was young about an arrange marriage between Morgana and me. Now I know why my father never acknowledged those rumours. She was different then: playful, challenging in her dealings with my father, daring, dangerous with a sword, witty, outrageously beautiful."

His eyes seemed far away for a while, and then he smiled broadly. "No man could resist Lady Morgana, back in those days. And if I do recall correctly, I did once catch my own manservant bringing her flowers on one sunny afternoon…"

"She'd been sick! Like you did any better with a _dagger_, honestly," Merlin scoffed.

He couldn't help but smile for they both shared, it seemed, the same memory of how it used to be with Morgana around. It was this picture that popped in the mind of the king and the servant whenever the name of Morgana was whispered; not the evil and vengeful witch, but the sassy and smart woman. Someone they both cared for.

The young dragonlord went to sit beside his friend.

"She doesn't remember you," he said in a soft voice. He held Arthur's stare, ignoring the others. "Morgause was controlling her, using her anger and rage as fuel. Morgause's hold on Morgana was very strong. I had to break that connection somehow. So I blocked Morgana's powers. I don't really know how I did it, but when she woke up, after Kilgharrah carried her away to that monastery, she didn't remember who she was. She didn't remember anything; not Uther, not Morgause, not even you. She begged me to tell her everything, but I couldn't."

He paused, recalling the painful moment.

"You're afraid that the spell will cease to work if she starts remembering," said Galahad.

The young sorcerer nodded, but kept his eyes on Arthur. "I visited her as often as I could. Each time, I told her stories about King Arthur and his brave knights. She knows that she used to live in Camelot. The name is familiar to her somehow. She knows she has friends there, but enemies too. And she knows that she used to have magic."

Arthur looked taken aback. "Does she know about _you_?"

"Yes," replied the warlock. "It was kind of hard keeping it a secret especially since the first time they saw me I was riding on Kilgharrah. I made quite an impression at that monastery. They call me… something else."

A sort of gloom fell on the group.

"What do they call you?" asked Gwaine.

Merlin shook his head. He was trying not to get sidetracked and some subjects were harder to avoid than others.

"It doesn't matter. The point is that Morgause and Morgana shared a link for a while. Whatever Morgause is planning, Morgana knows about it, even if that memory has been blocked. She might know a way out, or the workings of the magic used, or the way to the world of the dead."

"You're not serious," murmured Gwaine, suddenly looking very grim. "The World of the Dead. That's folly, Merlin."

"If I can't fight Morgause, then I must try to undo what she has done. It may be the only way."

"That's assuming that Morgana will remember anything," said Arthur, sounding a little more hopeful. "Or that she'll want to help us at all. Let's concentrate on that, shall we?"

"I agree with Arthur," said Gwaine. "It's too creepy out here to talk about the World of the Dead." He lied back on a patch of moss and closed his eyes. "Just be careful, Merlin. Women and magic. That's never a good mix."

"You have some experience then?" Galahad asked casually as he was lying down as well.

But the other knight did not answer. He already looked fast asleep.

"Get some sleep, Merlin," Arthur said commandingly. When the young sorcerer threw him a reproving look, he added: "You're going to need it."


	16. Chapter 15: Tavern Brawl

**Chapter 15: Tavern Brawl**

In the morning, they rode with haste and spoke very little. Soon the trees started to become shorter and the weather colder. The fog was clearing up and there were hardly any clouds. Under the blue sky, the wild and untamed plains seemed to stretch out forever. King Arthur even made a mental note to return here with Guinevere. The beauty of the scenery and the wild flowers on each side of the path were reminding him of her.

In the middle of the afternoon, they reached a spot where the road had been flooded. It wasn't deep, but it was too muddy for the horses to cross without having their horseshoes sucked in. Merlin would have used his magic to make the road dry, but Nuada indicated to him that his horse-friends were getting as tired and as hungry as their riders. So it was decided that they would get a little sidetracked by following another straighter road.

This particularly made Gwaine happy since it meant that they would eat and sleep at the inn, having failed to reach their destination at nightfall. As soon as he spotted the thatched house, the knight kicked his horse with enthusiasm.

"Where there's a road, there's an inn," he shouted back at Arthur and the others.

The Moon & Stars Inn was a crowded enough place considering how far north it was. There were at least two dozen guests just in the common area wearing all kinds of different clothing. Some of them wore long robes, or green druid cloaks, or black veils across their faces, or long scarves rolled up on top of their heads. Arthur caught the glance of a black-hooded traveler who was wearing red scarf over his nose and mouth, but the slim fellow quickly dodged out of sight. There were a few knight-like men in one corner, who were all looking rather smug. Arthur pulled his hood closer to his face, hoping not to be recognized. He was, after all, King Arthur of Camelot.

The innkeeper, a large man with curly orange hair and beard, looked rather unimpressed by the four riders that were presently sitting down at the only available table left.

"We servff ale and ffstew. Hope you're not looking for noffthing too fancy because you ainff't gonna get it."

"Room for the night?" asked Gwaine, flashing his best smile.

"Hmmmmmmff. Sure", growled the orange man. "But you'll havff to share. We ainff't fancy here, my Lords."

Arthur's senses suddenly became alert. "We're not _lords_," he said bluntly.

The orange man scoffed loudly. "Sure you ainff't," he snorted. "And these lads ainff't either." He tossed his head in the direction of the group of knight-like fellows who were hurdled close together, immersed in deep conversation.

As the innkeeper returned behind his counter, Arthur's glance fell on Merlin and he noticed for the first time that the dragonlord was pulling the hood of his cloak over his head a little too insistently.

"Relax, _Merlin_," Arthur said in his best patronizing tone. "I doubt anyone here knows any of us."

He had barely finished his sentence that a loud voice rose above the noisy crowd. One of the other knights, a short man with a gold fleur-de-lys on his white cape, had risen from his seat. His head was firmly on the hilt of his sword.

"Ten thousand gold pieces! That's how much I can offer. And my castle on the coast. I dare you to do better." He spat on the floor menacingly. Three of the richly-clad men from that table shrunk on their chairs; the other two rose and pulled out their swords.

"We will fight to the death. The winner shall have the Lady's hand," declared the first knight.

The other knight who stood next to him smiled maliciously. "The winner shall have the ten thousand gold pieces. Then I will _buy_ the Lady's hand."

"How dare you!" bellowed a young man in a silk tunic. He rose with such force that his chair fell over on the floor, but his frame was that of a boy of fifteen or sixteen. "I have never heard such dishonour among men of noble houses! You should be ashamed! My father, Lord Wessex, would not tolerate such disrespect…"

Arthur distinctively saw Gwaine roll his eyes up as the young lord went on and on about his family's fine morals. When he couldn't bear the babbling anymore, the tall knight strode over to the table, looking as casual as ever.

"Oh boy," Merlin breathed out.

"Gentlemen," Gwaine said haughtily. "I could not help but notice that you are all bargaining the love of a Lady. May I ask who the Lady might be?"

The young noble seemed to find the interruption quite impertinent, but not as much as the question itself. "Why, you must be a simpleton! It is the Lady Morgana, of course!"

Then several things happened. Merlin choked, splattering a mouthful of ale on Arthur's face. Six knights pulled out their swords. The other guests scattered hastily, aiming for the front door. And Gwaine, standing alone in the middle of the room, burst out laughing.

"One such as you cannot possibly hope to be accepted by the Lady Morgana," the white knight with the fleur-de-lys said, glancing at Gwaine with disdain. "Clearly, she is above your station."

But he stopped short when Gwaine laughed even harder. "Oh you have no idea," he said slyly. "The way I see it, fine noblemen, you've all reached a dead end." He glanced back at Arthur, Merlin and Galahad and actually _winked_. "The Lady's heart does not belong to any of you."

"_Gwaine_…" Arthur said warningly.

The young king's glance sought Merlin's face, but the warlock was deep in thought and not at all concerned by the prospect of a tavern brawl.

Meanwhile, the white knight's face had become quite red. "Who dares address me this way? Who are you? I should kill you where you stand for your impertinence." He glared in Arthur's direction. "And you little friends too."

Surprisingly, it was Galahad who stood up first at that comment. He pulled his sword in one swift motion, and the fierce look on his face was enough to give anyone goose bumps. The knight from Aria's Cradle pressed a hand on Merlin's shoulder and then he went to stand beside Gwaine.

"That wasn't a very nice thing to say to my friends," said Galahad, leaning on his sword nonchalantly as though he meant to imitate Gwaine.

The two knights in disguise exchanged a quick glance, and for a moment Arthur thought that Gwaine's playfulness would resume, but then Galahad unexpectedly took the lead.

"Let's just get to the fun part, shall we?"

Dropping his sword to his side, he clenched his left hand into a fist and swung a heavy blow into the white knight's face. All at once, swords slashed through the air, chairs flew across the room, goblets were flung at the wall, tables were turned over, and bodies began rolling on the ground. Arthur sprung to his feet and ducked out of the way of a flying plate.

Instinctively, he yelled, "_Merlin! _Do something!" but the warlock was nowhere in sight. The hooded king scanned the room at a glance and spotted his young servant almost right away. Merlin was sprinting through swirling dust and crumbling rubble, clearly looking for something. What was he up to?

A thin young knight lashed at Arthur, but the king sent him sprawling on the floor in less than a second. When he looked up again, Merlin was on the other side of the room, his grey hood still covering his head, his sword clasped behind his back, and he was magically moving furniture to try to get to a hooded and veiled black figure. The young warlock was so fixed upon this person that he had not seen another attacker. A large man was coming towards him with daggers in both hands.

"Merlin!" screamed Arthur on top of his voice.

Gwaine and Galahad looked up in unison. Merlin too, it seemed, had heard the cry because he wheeled around instantly, avoiding the daggers but only barely. He spun on his heels, unsheathing his sword as he moved, but he knocked his foot on a fallen chair and landed awkwardly on the floor. _This is not a good position to be in with someone wanting to kill you_, thought Arthur hastily.

Leaping over a fallen body, the young king caught a tankard of mead and flung in the direction of Merlin's attacker. It landed right on target, spilling its content on the thug's face.

The diversion was long enough for Merlin. The sorcerer's eyes glowed and the next second, the daggers were burning red.

"Arrrrgh! What _magic_ is this?" bellowed the large thug as he dropped his weapons.

What followed next was a wave of growling and panicked shrieks as all of the weapons started to fall on the ground one after the other. From the longest sword to the smallest dagger, they all fell under the same spell, burning the hands of their owners and clattering onto the stone floor. Only Gwaine, Galahad and Arthur were spared from the powerful magic.

As the last of the innkeeper's knives fell with a clang, a tense silence filled the room; and then, whispers. "Magic," was the word that rang into Arthur's ears. Indeed, it was the word on everyone's lips.

The moment was broken by a high-pitched scream.

The large thug, the first one who had attacked Merlin, was now holding the black-veiled fellow by the throat in the fold of his arm.

By the look of horror on Merlin's face, Arthur knew right away that something was wrong.

"Don't do that," said the sorcerer.

The thugs pressed his face in the black fellow's neck and took a long sniff. "The way I see it, you're coming with me or she dies. There are quite a few kingdoms where a sorcerer will fetch a good price." He sniffed again. "And I keep this one as leverage. I can smell a woman even if she's dressed like a man."

Suddenly, the woman in black swung her arms upwards, caught the thug's ears and pulled. When she had a firm hold, and the grip on her neck was loosened, she leaned forward, causing the large body to tip over on top of her. The large attacker would have crushed her, but with one swift motion, Merlin sent a wave of magic that threw the man crashing into the nearby wall instead.

The young dragonlord then rushed at the woman's side. The red scarf on her nose and mouth fell, as did her black hood, revealing a cascade of dark hair and an all-too-familiar face.

The word that was on every lip was on Arthur's mind as well.

_Morgana_.


	17. Chapter 16: Tales of the Past and Future

**Chapter 16: Tales of the Past and Future**

Arthur glanced rapidly at Gwaine and Galahad. Both knights seemed to be waiting for his command. But what could he tell them? Would he know it? If this was the Morgana who wanted him dead, would there be something in her eyes? If this was the evil witch, would he be smart enough to figure it out?

When he returned his attention to Morgana, he saw that she was standing on her own, pale and shaken but otherwise unharmed. She was now gently removing the hood from Merlin's head. They were standing so close to each other. As soon as she saw the dragonlord uncovered, her face lit up in the kind of smile that Arthur had not seen in a long, long time.

"Hello, Morgana," said Merlin in a voice that was almost a whisper.

She let out a sigh of relief and flung her arms around his neck. "I was coming to see you. I would have gone to Camelot. I didn't even care how. But you're here!"

Arthur couldn't help but stare at her face, her eyes, and her smile. They were so radiant, so cheerful and alive. The last image he had of her was completely the opposite. But a part of him still doubted so he decided to remain distant. Was this really a new person? Or was this the wicked Morgana playing with their heads?

Gently, Merlin took her arms away from him, but their eyes remained locked for a usually long period of time. Arthur could only see him from behind but he thought that his friend's ears were rather red. And now that he was actually thinking about it, it struck him as rather odd to see a woman show this kind of affection towards _Merlin_. He quickly shook the idea out of him mind.

"We need to talk," Merlin finally said, breaking the awkward silence.

A figure moved forward. It was the white knight who had offered ten thousand gold pieces. "That we do," he began to say. Then, bowing low, he added, "We meet again, Lady Morgana."

There were many more sighing and whispering voices among the noble and less noble guests.

Merlin took a step back, resuming his usual servant position.

"Lord Henry," Morgana said solemnly, rising to her full height and shaking her long curls. "We meet again indeed. And so soon. After our last meeting, I assume that you can only be on your way home. As I recall, I did refuse your offer of marriage. _Twice_."

_That is the Morgana I know_, Arthur thought instantly.

Gwaine suppressed a laugh, as did Galahad. Only Merlin did not seem to find the comment funny. He was rubbing the side of his forehead nervously.

"My Lady, you are the fairest lady in the land and I am of noble birth. It is a very desirable match. I assure you that the offer will not repeat itself," said the white-clad noble, puffing his chest.

"My Lord, I assure you that there is but one offer that I can accept."

After that statement, her cheeks became a little red and she looked away shyly. This time, the knight was less impressed.

"Not… _love_," he sneered. He glanced at Merlin with unconcealed dislike. "Is this… _him_? A sorcerer! A man who will be hunted all of his life! There are a dozen men now outside just waiting for him to come out. They all know how much he will fetch in one of the five kingdoms. Is this the life you will choose?"

"I shall choose as I please!" burst out Morgana in a tone that she had used many times with Uther.

This made Arthur uneasy. If she did not control her temper, this conversation could take a wrong turn. He was about to step up when he noticed that Galahad had been quicker to react. He was now standing next to Merlin, a firm hand pressed on the sorcerer's shoulder, his sword drawn defensively in front of the white noble.

"He's not just any sorcerer," he said for all to hear. "He's a Brittanicus. And a dragonlord. You are nothing compared to him. And if you are disrespectful again, I shall run you through."

The white noble's hand moved quickly in answer to the chalenge. He took off his glove and would have thrown it at Galahad's feet, declaring his intention to fight in a dual. But Arthur's blade was now blocking his way.

"I think we've had quite enough of this," the young king said with his best self-important tone. "We are here to talk to the Lady Morgana. The rest of you can just leave."

There were many grunting and pulling of swords inside the inn.

"Just _who_ do you think you are?" yelled the orange bearded innkeeper.

Arthur pulled down his hood. It hadn't been his intention to put on such a show, but the situation was too critical to waste time in another tavern brawl. Also, the long and silent looks between Merlin and Morgana were getting on his nerves. Something was definitely going on there, but he could not quite put his finger on it. Surely, it couldn't be what the white knight – Lord Henry – had said. Surely it wasn't… _love_. That would just be ridiculous.

"I'm King Arthur of Camelot," he declared. "This is Sir Gwaine and Sir Galahad. As for the sorcerer, he's Lord Brittanicus and my closest friend. You would do well not to hinder him."

Merlin threw him a slightly surprised look, as though he had not expected such an introduction.

Slowly, and with only soft sounds and low whispers, the inn began to empty itself. The first knights responsible for the brawl seemed unwilling to leave, but Gwaine and Galahad's imposing figures soon changed their minds. The young noble in the silk tunic bowed curtly to Arthur and tripped on a fallen body as he left. Last to leave was the white knight. Now that Morgana had so whole-heatedly refused him, he was transferring a lot of his anger and frustration into his glare in Arthur's direction.

"Lord Henry, have you something to add?" asked the king as he was casually removing his traveller's cloak.

"It will not go well that you've entered Lot's kingdom, Pendragon," said the noble. "Even someone as open-minded as King Lot does not tolerate noblemen who use sorcery against their enemies."

Arthur immediately saw Merlin's face become crestfallen. "You may tell King Lot that I am well surrounded, and that I have nothing to hide."

With a final bow, Lord Henry turned his heels and left the tavern.

Now they could concentrate on the real purpose of their visit to this remote land.

"Morgana, we're here because we need your help. _Camelot_ needs your help."

But she wasn't listening to him. She was not even looking at him. All her attention was turned towards Merlin.

"_Arthur Pendragon_? Why have you brought him here? What is going on?"

The answer did not come right away. Merlin seemed to be debating inwardly and he kept glancing from Arthur to Morgana. He was only shaken out of his deep thinking when she took his hand.

"It's time I told you everything," he finally said in a voice that was barely a whisper. Then, turning to Arthur, he added, "_Alone_. With your leave, Sire?"

The king tried to conceal his shock. "Err… All right. You two can talk while we… err… stay… _here_."

He had barely finished his sentence that Merlin and Morgana were already climbing the stairs under the startled gaze of Arthur, Gwaine, Galahad and the awkward innkeeper.

The remaining of the evening was spent quietly. Arthur ate dinner but he couldn't help glancing at the stairs. Galahad and Gwaine were on the other hand keeping watch by going from window to window.

"By morning, the entire kingdom will know that Arthur Pendragon has crossed into Lot's kingdom," said the knight from Aria's Cradle. "I thought you wanted to remain hidden."

"The situation was getting out of hand," Arthur said crossly.

Gwaine merely shrugged. "Well now we have to get back fast or the _other-you_ is going to get a taste of what it's really like to be King Arthur."

Arthur's patience was running out. He put down his goblet with a loud _thud_ that filled the room.

"It's been _hours_! What are they _doing_ up there?" he burst out.

"Probably something we ought to be doing as well," snorted Gwaine. When both Galahad and Arthur threw him awkward glances, he added quickly, "I mean _sleeping_."

A creak in the wooden floor. And the sound of a door being shot. _Finally_, thought Arthur as he saw Merlin's silhouette. The sorcerer was coming down half-hidden in the candlelight, his footsteps heavy and his face pale.

He made his way slowly towards Arthur and took the seat opposite. "I told her everything," he let out in a long breath.

Arthur nodded gravely. "How is she?"

"Confused. She doesn't remember any of it. Not you. Uther. Not the discovery of her powers. Not her secret meetings with Morgause. I thought when she saw you… But that was just shock because I had told her stories about the Knights of Camelot. I think her memories, whatever happened to them, must be linked to her magic. Tomorrow I'll try something. But not tonight."

He was staring intently at the fire as he spoke. In the half-light, he looked so much older than his years. _Careworn_ was the correct word. The young king could hardly imagine what Merlin had just gone through. He had just told Morgana that she was not the person she thought she was. That couldn't be an easy task.

Although a thousand questions were rushing through Arthur's head, he decided that it was time for all of them to retire to their rooms for the knight. Since they were the only customers now, they had plenty of choices.

The rooms at the Moon & Stars Inn were not exactly comfortable. When Arthur finally fell asleep, it was into a swirl of images full of memories of the past. Strangely, though, in the deeper night he dreamt not of the past but of the future.

Morgana was there; dressed simply in white, standing on top of a hill and calling out names that Arthur could not hear. Merlin was there too, but his back was turned. He glanced back and winked at Arthur. Then three children – three boys – came running towards them and Merlin swept them all into his arms. And Morgana remained watchful in the distance. Her face was like stone. Then Arthur saw the outline of Camelot, a fleeting reflection of Gwen, and the vision was gone.

…

**Word from the author:**

**Hey hey! It's fun to add a little dream of the future to the whole mystery. More Merlin&Morgana in the next chapters. Thanks for reading, especially if you've gotten this far. Don't forget to drop a review! **


	18. Chapter 17: Bird of Prey

**Chapter 17: Bird of Prey**

Arthur Pendragon was startled out of his sleep by loud banging on the door.

"Your majesty! King Arthur! Open the door! _Please_!"

Morgana's pleading tone was enough to make him hurry. He had barely put a shirt on when the door swung opened. In the moonlight, Morgana's face looked paler than usual. And _panicked_.

"What is it?" Arthur asked nervously.

"It's Merlin. He's _gone_. Somebody took him."

Arthur wheeled around quickly to grab his sword, chainmail and coat. A few seconds later, they were climbing down the stairs of the shabby inn to join Gwaine and Galahad.

"What happened?" the king asked right away.

His gaze immediately fell on Galahad who had a bleeding gash on the side of his head.

"Sire, I was knocked out from behind. I never saw it coming."

Seeing how distraught he was, Arthur decided that it would be a bad idea to scold the knight who had been on watch. He turned to Gwaine instead.

"Morgana found Galahad alone. Then she came to wake me," said the knight.

Arthur's gaze sought his half-sister. He saw her standing by the opened door and peering through the darkness beyond.

"It's pitch black out there, my Lady," said Gwaine. "We don't know how many thugs there are. If we light up torches, we become targets."

"What else do you suggest," cried out Galahad, sounding outraged, "that we go back to sleep?"

"I have something better in mind, actually," Gwaine replied cunningly.

Arthur was more concerned by Morgana's silence. She looked almost in a trance. He took a few steps closer to her.

"He's not dead," he said in a low voice, trying to sound convinced.

She shook her long wavy hair. "I know. I can _feel_ it."

Arthur felt his chest tighten. Merlin and Morgana. _No. Absolutely not_. It was ludicrous. How could it possibly have happened?

"Hmmm, right," he let out in a breath.

His mind felt numb. How was he supposed to react? Morgana had tried to kill him. She had tried to destroy everything that he loved. What if it was happening over again? Merlin's heart would be broken.

A triumphant cry from Gwaine brought him out of his reverie. "Aha! Here's the little bugger!"

With a large grin on his face, Gwaine was holding at the tip of his sword the orange bearded innkeeper. The fat man looked as though he was going to faint. Big beads of sweat were covering his entire face. Maybe his weak state had to do with the fact that he was alone and surrounded by two angry-looking knights and the King of Camelot.

"I didn't do anything, my Lords, I swear!" the innkeeper blurted out.

"But you know what happened to Merlin," said Gwaine slyly.

"_Lord_ Merlin," Galahad corrected.

"I…"

Since the fat man didn't willing to speak, Arthur thought it would be a good idea to draw his sword as well.

"They paid me to put something in his drink," stuttered the innkeeper. "He took one sip and he was done for. Head fell on the table and he was snoring."

Gwaine and Arthur exchanged a nervous glance.

"Are you sure you heard him snoring?" asked the young king.

The fat man shook his orange beard feverishly, sending droplets of sweat all around him. "I sear it, Sire! Upon my life! Upon my wife's life! And my son's. And my mother's. And my cousin's."

As Galahad and Gwaine were coming closer, the large and imposing innkeeper seemed to shrink. He was shaking so violently that he fell on his backside with a splatter and a _clang_.

"Leave him," Arthur said absent-mindedly. "He's done for."

Gwaine immediately sheathed his sword, but Galahad grabbed a nearby jug and wacked the fat man on the head for good measure.

When he saw Arthur's raised eyebrows, he said crossly, "I'm a knight, but I'm not one of _yours_, Pendragon."

They were cut off when Morgana suddenly let out a small shriek. She was still standing by the door with her back to Arthur and the others. When Arthur wheeled her around, she was shaking all over.

"He's awake now. He's in pain. He's trying to escape. He's trying… some sort of magic."

That seemed to set Galahad on edge. "You can feel him because you have magic too. All magical creatures are connected. Listen to me." The knight from Aria's Cradle came closer to Morgana and the intensity of his stare made her take a step back. "You can save him. You must hang on to that connection. If you can do that, we'll find him."

Her eyes went from Galahad, to Gwaine and then to Arthur. Her face became resolute. Then she took out the dagger from her belt and declared, "Follow me."

She led them outside of the inn and then towards the western road. It was the middle of the night, but there was a pale moonlight and they could see without torches. Everything around them was an eerie shade of grey. They started their search slowly. Then Morgana's sense of Merlin's magic seemed to become sharper and she took off at a run. Unlike Arthur and the knights, she was not wearing any chainmail, so she was soon well ahead of them.

"She's in good shape, for a Lady," Galahad breathed out. "I can see why Merlin likes her."

Arthur almost stopped completely in shock. "That's rubbish," he cried out in spite of himself. "He doesn't _like_ her. She's our _enemy_."

Galahad merely grinned. "Exactly my point. Opposites attract each other. They're like light and dark, all rolled up into one."

The idea had not yet begun to sink into Arthur's mind that he was startled by the sound of crashing swords.

Gwaine was the first to react. He yelled, "Morgana!" and started to run with his sword held high.

A few paces ahead, Arthur found a scene that struck him as vaguely familiar. Morgana was fighting fiercely a group of thugs. Her hair was flying around like a black storm. Gwaine was fighting as well and mostly keeping the attackers from striking Morgana from behind. Even with her memory gone, Morgana was fighting as though she had been trained for it. Her blade was swift and her blows were almost as powerful as any man's.

Arthur was about to leap into the fight as well when Galahad grabbed him by the arm. The knight was pointing at three silhouettes, concealed in the semi-darkness, which were walking, or crawling, away from the fight.

Bending low to avoid being seem, Arthur and Galahad took the direction of the three runaways. They went away from the road and deeper into the forest. Soon the sounds of the clashing swords began to die out to be replaced by the beating of wings and howling of nocturnal animals.

The thugs came to a stop near a clearing. The trees were more widely spread out, which one of the fellows seemed to be happy about. Suddenly, a cloud moved up above, releasing a beam of moonlight through the clearing, and Arthur saw that the tallest of the thugs was holding a crossbow aimed at the trees. But there was nothing out there other than the yellow eyes of many birds of prey.

"_Come out, come out, little hawk_," the thug was singing.

Suddenly, and without warning, Galahad burst forward. The others wheeled around in surprise. The first to feel Galahad's wrath was the man with the crossbow. Arthur sprang forward to meet the other attacker, but he was shocked to find a man much taller and broader than himself. The heavily built man, who smelled strongly of horse dung, threw himself upon Arthur in one giant leap. Arthur was immediately pinned down, sprawled helplessly under the man's body. Then, to his horror, the burly fellow put both his hands around the young king's neck. Right away, he couldn't breathe. His vision blurred. He was going to pass out, and fast.

"Oh I hope you're worth some gold too," snarled Arthur's attacker. "A king and a sorcererrrrrrrragh!"

A bird had suddenly decided to attack the thug, planting its talons deep into the large man's bald head. Beating wings and red gashes flashed in front of Arthur's eyes as both the bird and the thug rolled off. Now that he could breathe again, Arthur's hand reached out for his sword and with one swift strike to the thug's left leg he brought down the heavy man to his knees. As he gave the final blow, Arthur saw the bird – a small hawk – twist and turn in the air, flying uneasily towards Galahad. Though he had taken out the first two thugs, the knight was still fighting another attacker. The bird of prey plunged in head first, biting and clawing at Galahad's opponent. At some point, the thug grabbed a wing and tried to throw off the hawk. However, the bird merely spun around and came back for more. Arthur felt completely entranced by the scene. Was _a hawk_ actually helping them? That sort of thing just wasn't possible.

Then, coming unexpectedly, an arrow whistled through the clearing and caught the hawk straight under a wing. Arthur watched as the bird tumbled helplessly to the ground. He sought Galahad's gaze and the knight looked even more horror-struck than he was.

The crossbow had been fired by a thug who had picked up the weapon from the ground. Arthur found him easily and knocked him out with a kick on the face. When that was done, he turned back to Galahad and started to run towards him. The knight was kneeling on the ground and looked positively shaken.

The shriek that followed could have been Arthur's, but it came from Morgana instead.

"Merlin! _Noooo_!"

The figure lying in front of Galahad was no longer a small hawk. It was a body that Arthur knew too well. The young king felt the color drain out of his face and his knees buckle. How could he have been so stupid? Of course it was Merlin. _Merlin, the sorcerer who could change his appearance_… But it was too late. His tunic was rapidly getting stained with red blood. The arrow had pierced his left side just below the shoulder. Galahad had pulled it out and he was trying to put pressure. But Arthur had seen many battles. That much blood was not a good sign.

The young king was almost knocked over when Morgana ran by him and threw herself on the ground besides Merlin.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" said Morgana, sobbing. "I wasn't quick enough."

Merlin's eyes were only half-opened. "You did know where to find me," he murmured. "That's magic, you know."

His eyes closed and he coughed. Arthur felt so numb by what was happening that he couldn't say anything. He could only stare.

Morgana was stroking Merlin's forehead. "Don't go. _Please_ don't go," she was whispering pleadingly.

"Pfff. You don't know me," was the feeble reply, but anyone could tell that Merlin was rapidly fading.

"You can do it, my Lady." All eyes instantly turned towards Galahad, but the knight was only staring at Morgana. "You have magic. Healing magic. You can still save him."

Morgana's eyes became wide. "I don't remember how."

Galahad's tone was stern. "Then don't think. Just do it. Follow the same thread you've been following since we left the inn. That is your door. All you need to do is walk through it."

Arthur took a careful step forward. "Morgana, _please_," he said pleadingly.

Merlin's body gave a sudden shudder and he closed his eyes. Wasting no more time, Morgana placed both her hands on his wound. The blood instantly covered her long fingers but she did not seem to care. She wasn't even looking at her hands. Her eyes were now turned upwards. The tears were no longer running down her cheeks. A powerful wind swept around her, lifting her black hair off her shoulders. She murmured some words. It didn't work. She tried again, this time much louder. Suddenly, her eyes burned gold.

To Arthur, it was as though the world had stopped. The only thing moving to him was Morgana's cascading hair. Merlin's chest remained annoyingly motionless. He had never wanted so badly to hear that irritating, mindless prattle. Just a word. A breath. A hiccup. A snore. _Anything_.

Suddenly, there was one breath and then a word. It sounded like _Arthur_.

"Is he…?" the young began to say, but his voice broke off.

"He's alive," Galahad let out.

There was a general sigh of relief. Morgana's hair was no longer flowing. Her eyes were filled with tears again, but this time she was looking at her blood-stained hands. When she looked up, her glance met Arthur's and immediately he knew.

_She remembers everything._

…

**Word from the author:**

**OK that's it for the long chapter that was giving me a hard time to write. I'm hoping to get the next one done a little faster.**

**Thanks for the reviews.**

**HighEmpress**


	19. Chapter 18: the King's Refuge

**Note: Long chapter but lots of important plot points. I hope you enjoy.**

**Thanks for reading.**

…**.**

**Chapter 18: the King's Refuge**

Merlin woke up to the touch of a warm sunbeam on his face and the smell of freshly cut herbs. He allowed the scent to fill his lungs before he even opened his eyes. The scene that greeted him was so familiar that he felt completely safe and at home.

For three years, each time he had visited the monastery – otherwise known as King Lot's Refuge, he had slept in this room. At first, he had objected to it, declaring that it was too nice for him. However, the orders from the Lord in charge of the place had been quite clear and he had had to accept the arrangement for fear of causing any trouble to the servants or insult to his host. From that moment on, he had made this space his home away from Camelot.

The walls were richly decorated with tapestries and heavy curtains that kept the room from getting too cold, though most of the time Merlin kept the windows fully uncovered to appreciate the view of the green meadows. The furniture was hand-carved with flowery details on the wood. His favourite piece was a writing table from which he could see the gardens and the fields. His four-poster bed was similar to the one in Arthur's chambers, except that it had a layer of multicoloured fur on top of the bedding for extra warmth. On his bedside table, he could see the books he had read during his last visit, alongside the wax candles that Morgana had made for him. Most of the candles were tipping over like odd branches about to fall off and Merlin smiled at the sight.

Morgana had no artistic talent whatsoever.

The monks had tried to teach her many different kinds of art: singing, knitting, sewing, painting, candle-making, and even baking. She showed very little interest for any of those activities. It became clear early on that the quiet life of the monastery was not for her. As a result, and under Merlin's and the Lord tenant's command, she was given much more freedom than a woman in such surroundings normally would. That freedom included a lot of spare time to ride and the privilege of wearing clothes that were more to her liking. Since her noble origins were not a secret, the Lord in charge of the monastery had had fine dresses made for her, according to her station.

The word had spread out fast that a noble Lady, who was also incredibly beautiful, was now living at the monastery. _The fairest Lady in the kingdom_. More than one tale reached Merlin's ears about the mysterious Lady Morgana. Some said that she was a fairy queen in hiding. Some called her a princess from a foreign land, forced into exile by a jealous stepmother. But the most popular rumour was that she was King Lot's illegitimate daughter. It was this assumption that had brought many men of noble birth in this remote land to seek out Morgana's hand, a situation that the old king found vastly entertaining.

_Entertaining_. That was hardly the word that Merlin had in mind at the present time. To begin with, King Lot's idea on who Morgana should be marrying was laughable. Secondly, he did not want Arthur Pendragon to hear anything about it. And to finish, they had much more urgent matter to attend to, such as saving Camelot from certain doom.

Resolutely, Merlin glanced around the room for signs of his usual clothes. His wound must have been only half-healed because there was a large white bandage across his chest and a painful throbbing under it. As he soon as he began to move, he found that his body was aching all over, as though he was eighty years-old again.

Yet he had survived. Morgana's magic had saved him. It was a good sign. Healing was magic of a good kind. He had felt no darkness there at all. It was _definitely_ a good sign.

He found a pile of clothes, but they were not his servant's tunic or travelling cloak. It was a white shirt and brown trousers. There was also a blue coat lined with silver thread. He dressed hastily, cursing at the fact that he had been deprived of yet another perfectly good scarf.

Having him dress like a Lord was one of King Lot's favourite jokes, which meant that the old king was around the monastery somewhere.

_Preferably _not_ having a talk with Arthur_, thought Merlin with sudden agitation.

The idea that the two were sharing information about Morgana and him was not at all appealing.

There was no guard at his door so he sped down the stairs until he came to the gallery. The monastery was actually a fortress turned into a sort of safe heaven for those of wanted to pray to their gods. At any time of the day, it was normal to hear praying or singing in different languages. The chores were shared, as well as the food, but some areas were private to the king or his guests. This was mainly why it had been safe for Morgana to remain here. King Lot had immediately welcomed her and cared for her as a guardian would. As for Merlin, there had been no secret from the start. Here he was Lord Merlin Brittanicus, a dragonlord from Aria's Cradle, and that was surprisingly a position that he was getting accustomed to.

Stopping to catching his breathe, he heard raised voices coming from the corridor and decided to go into that direction.

A servant boy bowed to him as he passed.

"Where's the King?" Merlin asked straight away.

"King Lot or King Arthur, my Lord?"

A shiver ran on Merlin's spine. If the two rulers were sharing diner and there was wine involved, the conversation could get embarrassing for him.

Merlin did not waste a moment and he burst into the dining hall.

"Ha! There you are, lad," cried out King Lot as soon as he saw him. "King Arthur was beginning to worry."

Just as Merlin had feared, the two nobles were sitting comfortably at the dining table. King Lot's white hair was longer than the last time Merlin had seen him. His belly too had extended. The old king was sitting with his back to the fireplace and he was grinning mischievously.

Arthur cranked his neck to watch Merlin enter the room. "I merely expressed some concern about your general health," said the young king. Then he stuffed some more bread into his mouth.

King Lot snorted loudly at Arthur's comment. "He and Morgana have been pacing this room for hours, wondering when you might wake up. Both of them refused to get any sleep until they were certain you were out of danger. They would probably have starved too if I hadn't had the good sense of ordering some food."

Indeed, as Merlin glanced at the table, he saw that it was filled with colourful vegetable and fruits, cheese, bread and a large roasted turkey. Merlin wasted no time and took a seat near Arthur, digging into a large bowl of blueberries.

"Where is Morgana?" he asked innocently.

"She went to get changed," said the old king. "I couldn't stand the sight of her in them trousers."

"And Gwaine and Galahad?"

"They're with Morgana," said the young king, sounding slightly annoyed.

"How long was I…?"

"_She remembers everything_," said Arthur, cutting him off and glaring at him intensely. "That bit of magic that she did unlocked something in her memory. You were healed, but you weren't waking up. Coming here seemed like our only option. Morgana led the way, and here we are."

Merlin felt as though he had just been punched in the stomach. "What do you mean by 'everything'? What did she say?"

Arthur leaned back in his seat, arms crossed on his chest. "Gwaine wanted to tie her up and cover her mouth to keep her from doing any spells. You know what she said then?"

Merlin shook his head.

"She said 'do what you feel you must. As long as you keep him alive, I'll do whatever you want'. Now why on Earth would she say something like that, _Merlin_?"

He was about to open his mouth to reply when King Lot suddenly burst out laughing.

"Do you see it now, Arthur Pendragon? _Love_ is going to save your kingdom. Not the strength of numbers or the power of a wizard. Just the love of two people who are as opposite as day and night."

The young sorcerer could feel his face growing red. This was exactly the conversation that he did not want Arthur and King Lot to have. And the glare that Arthur kept throwing in his direction wasn't helping him feel any better.

After a few seconds of tensed silence, Arthur leaned forward on the table to address the king.

"_Love_, my Lord, is not going to breach Camelot's defences. But five thousand armed men might."

"Make that five thousand men and one woman."

Merlin did not even need to turn around to know who had entered the room. He could feel Morgana's magic sparkling all around him like soap bubbles. Without thinking about it, he rose from his seat, hesitating about how to greet her. A sudden burst of pain inside his chest forced him to clench his teeth. After a few seconds he felt ready to talk, but two very annoying knights choose that moment to make their entrance.

"Stand down!" cried out Gwaine at once, looking livid.

Morgana's glance went from Merlin and then to the knights.

"I told you that he was awake," she said irritably. "That's why I left in a hurry. I couldn't just wait for you two to stop your bickering and pay attention to what was happening."

Gwaine's and Galahad's faces suddenly grew red.

"You are not to leave our sight," Gwaine retorted forcefully.

"Calm yourself, lad," said King Lot. "Lady Morgana is still my guest and so are you. The rule in this house is 'no killing each other'. The first one to disobey that rule will have _me_ to deal with."

"She cannot be trusted, my Lord," said Galahad.

Merlin didn't like the tone that this conversation was taking. He meant to protest, but a wave of nausea swept over him and he swayed on the spot instead. Black spots filled his vision and he only came back moments later when a splash of water hit his face.

"For goodness's sake, Arthur! Did you _have to_ do that?"

Underneath Morgana's snappy retort, there was something else like disguised concern. When he opened his eyes, he saw her as though she was shrouded in white light. Her white dress was floating around her and her black hair was like a storm.

"I like your dress. It's very… _white_," he said weakly. He was shielding his eye from the brightness while at the same time trying to sit up.

"It's not white, it's blue," said Arthur, sounding puzzled.

Taking a deep calming breathe, Merlin finally looked up to realise that Morgana's dress was indeed blue. It was, in fact, the same blue as the coat that he was now wearing; the one that Lot had placed in his chambers as a replacement of his servant's tunic. _Great, we're wearing matching outfits,_ he thought. Yet he couldn't really by angry at King Lot for the little joke. The old ruler had, after all, been very good to both of them.

"You look lovely," he said in a hoarse whisper, though his vision was still blurry.

"And you look like you shouldn't be out of bed," she replied.

He mumbled a feeble 'I'm fine' that did not seem to reassure either Arthur or Morgana. She was looking at him pleadingly.

"Why can't I heal you? _Really_ heal you?" she asked in a murmur.

Merlin bit his lip. For the first time since she had entered the room, he realised just who he was talking to. Yet she did not have that aura of hatred or revenge that had once clouded her eyes. If she did indeed 'remember everything' as Arthur had put it, then she did not seem intent on killing him. Her voice, her manners, the touch of her hands on his hands; everything was the same as it had been on his last visit to the king's refuge.

And on that moment he had never wanted to kiss her so badly.

"Tell me what to do," she pleaded again.

But he couldn't kiss her. Not yet. And not in front of Arthur. The _prat_ would give him hell for that.

Instead, he took her head between his hands and said softly, "You need to heal yourself first."

The silence that followed was broken only by King Lot loud chewing. Morgana took a step back. She was hiding her face and Merlin knew right away that he had stirred some deep emotions in her. After doing a little pacing around the table, she finally went to sit beside Arthur. The two knights, Gwaine and Galahad, took the remaining seats near King Lot.

"What's the plan now?" asked Gwaine.

Arthur straightened his back, taking a more solemn position. Or was he just uncomfortable about having Morgana sitting close to him?

"King Lot has agreed to lend us five thousand of his men. Not just any men, but trained men from his high guard."

"Do you think you can defeat Morgause with swords and spears?" Galahad said bluntly. "Even with the help of a powerful sorcerer…"

"_Wizard_."

Arthur almost dropped his fork at King Lot's comment. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me correctly, Pendragon," said the old ruler. "Your friend Merlin is not a sorcerer; he's a wizard." When he saw that the faces around him were all puzzled, he continued. "In the time of the Ancient Kings and Great Dragons, wizards were a bridge between the worlds. When there was a conflict, they could give a voice to the spirits. Some even said that they were spirits in human form, or that their soul came from the spirit realm. Their deep awareness made them great advisors to the kings. It is from that race that the High Priestesses of the Old Religion get their knowledge. Without wizards, there would be no sorcery today. No book of magic. No witchcraft. Where do you think those spells actually come from?"

Merlin saw many pairs of eyes turn to him.

King Lot took a few second to let them all absorb this new information, and then he went on.

"Many have speculated about why wizards have left our realm. Most likely, they wanted to take no part in the wars of men. But they left token of their existence here and there. And once in a while they send a messenger to guide us through dark times. About three hundred years ago, the spirits sent a great Seer called Taliesin so that he could tell us of darker times to come and of the return of one of their own: the wizard Emrys."

Arthur's frown became sceptical. "Do you mean… _Merlin_?"

King Lot grinned widely. "You call him Merlin. The druids call him Emrys. But know this, Arthur Pendragon. Magic can be studied. Spells can be learned. But there is only one race who is born of magic, and that is the race of wizards."

Arthur was staring at Merlin as though he was the oddest thing he had ever seen. It made Merlin slightly uncomfortable.

"How does that give us an advantage over Morgause?" the young king asked.

"I'm not sure," said the king while carving himself another piece of the roasted turkey. "But like I said, the wizards of legend could walk between worlds. So if your Morgause did indeed go to the World of the Dead to bring back her dragonlord and dragon shades, then Merlin is the only one here who can make the journey and hope to return."

There was a long silence around the table. Merlin could now feel the full weight of what it meant to be a 'chosen one'. There was so much that he was supposed to accomplish alone. It was very unfair. Arthur had his knights, and Gwen, and a young wizard to guide him on his path. Why couldn't _he_ have any of that?

Resolutely, he let out a long sight and broke the silence.

"All right," he declared. "I'll do it."

While King Lot and Galahad were looking at him with newfound admiration, Arthur's reaction was quite the opposite.

"Do you actually know how to do this?" he cried out. "Going to the World of the Dead? It's not exactly finding your way to the nearest tavern. And what if you do get there? Where will you go?"

There was more on Arthur's mind behind this outburst. If he was going to lead an army to Camelot, he needed Merlin on his side. He needed _magic_ on his side. And perhaps he needed his friend too.

Merlin swallowed. It wouldn't be easy convincing Arthur…

"_There was a map_."

Morgana's voice was so low that it seemed to come from far, far away. She was not looking at any of them; she was just staring at her hands, concentrating hard on whatever she was remembering.

"Morgause didn't have it, but she kept talking about what she would do when she found it. It wasn't only about _what_ but _whom_; who she would bring back. She kept saying that the possibilities were limitless, though the choice ultimately belonged to the spirits. She also warned me that shades are not wholesome people. They are merely shadows of themselves, empty of will and bond by magic. They do not belong to this world. They are merely borrowed souls. And the map doesn't tell you where to go. It tells you who you need to find; who will help you the most on your quest. When you read the map, your mind has to be clear of doubts. You have to be certain of what you want." She glanced around the table nervously. "That's all I remember."

Merlin immediately turned his attention to Arthur.

"Tell me you brought that map," he said in a low voice.

Arthur clasped his hand on his chest. "You're not getting your hands on it. It's folly. We're sticking to my plan. We're marching on Camelot."

"And what are you going to do about LeNoir and those dragons?" said Galahad.

He glanced over at Gwaine for support, but the Knight of Camelot was shaking his mane of hair.

"I don't know, Galahad. If the situation is hopeless, that's where I'll be. With Arthur, I mean, keeping the army alive and fighting long enough to give a chance to Merlin to do his bit."

"I don't get it," said Galahad, puzzled. "You're actually thinking about letting Merlin go _alone_?"

"Merlin can do it," burst out King Lot, banging his fist on the table. "And so can Pendragon. The king and the wizard, like in the Old Days. This has long been written. And I haven't lived this long to see that dream fail."

Arthur's face turned pale. Merlin shifted on his seat, not knowing what to say. He wanted to tell Arthur to give him the map and let him go, but somehow he knew from his long years of being a servant that the decision wasn't really his call. He knew what he had to do. But it would be much easier not to do it behind Arthur's back.

At length, Arthur let out a long sigh of annoyance. "Stop giving me that look, _Merlin_. I know you too well. I'm giving you five days. In five days we begin our attack on Camelot whether we hear from you or not. Personally, I don't really care that you're a wizard, a dragonlord, or an idiot servant; you had better be coming back from the World of the Dead or you'll have me to deal with."

"And me," said King Lot with a wide grin.

"Aye, all of us," said Galahad, beaming. Then he turned to Arthur and added, "And when you return, Pendragon will make you advisor to the king."

"_What_?"

"He's a _wizard_," Galahad argued. "It's _tradition_."

Arthur's tone was softer when he spoke. "He already _is_ my advisor. The greatest one a king could have, because he's also my friend. But Galahad is right. My first decree upon sitting on the throne again will be to make Merlin my advisor. You have my word of honour."

For a moment, Merlin was speechless. The enormity of the task before him was almost forgotten.

"Does it mean 'no more polishing your armour'?" he said jokingly, though he was sure that his voice betrayed how overwhelmed he was.

But Arthur just waved his hand in annoyance. He then took the map out from under his shirt and he sent it sliding across the table to Merlin. "Just take that godforsaken map and go, before I change my mind," he said in a voice filled with emotion.

But as Merlin stretched out to pick up the old map, his fingers brushed against the soft skin of somebody else's hand.

Morgana had reached the map first.

…

**Word from the author:**

**Long chapter. I hope it wasn't too confusing. Do you like that Merlin is a wizard? No crossover intended. I wanted to summarize his identity and this seemed like the right word for it.**

**Also, I received some comments regarding the fact that Merlin's magical skills are a bit pathetic so far. All I've got to say about this is… read on and all will become clear.**

**Please review!**

**HighEmpress **


	20. Chapter 19: From the Ashes

**Word from the author: this is a short chapter but another one is coming up shortly.**

…**..**

**Chapter 19: From the Ashes**

"No!" Merlin cried out as Morgana's hand reached out for the folded piece of parchment.

As he had expected, he felt a surge of magic coming from the map. It unleashed all around them with a powerful _wham_. Merlin's whole body was shoved backwards and his shoulders collided with the wall behind. This time, however, he wasn't a fragile eighty years-old man and he fell right back on his feet, feeling only a little dazed. Unlike how it had happened at the sea fortress, he had been ready for it and he had used his own magic as a shield. The old map held some kind of magical protection against intruders, that much was certain. What he _hadn't_ been prepared for was Morgana reaching out for the map first.

Though his feet were firmly on the ground, he could feel the floor and the walls shaking from the powerful surge. Bits of rock, mortar and a lot of dust were falling freely from the ceiling. He heard a loud creaking from above. The chandelier was balancing as though it was caught in a storm.

"Merlin!" shrieked Morgana.

He saw her through a cloud of ashes and flames. She had flown backwards and she had landed _inside_ the fireplace. With shaking hands and eyes burning gold, she was trying to keep the flames from consuming her. At the same time, the old fireplace was crumbling down on top of her with large chunks of the wall. In fact, after the powerful blow, the entire room was collapsing on top of them.

Closing his eyes for concentration, Merlin raised both of his hands, allowing the familiar wave of magic to flow through him and out into the room. He reached out for Morgana first, forcing the flames around her to die out. Then he turned his attention upwards, shaping his magic so that it held into place everything that was currently falling down. At his command, the chaos froze. The falling pieces of the fireplace, the walls and the ceiling slowed down unnaturally to hang in midair as though suspended by an invisible thread. The dust began to settle down. On top of the floating rubble, Merlin could see five bewildered faces.

"Is everyone all right?" he called at large.

Arthur mumbled "show off" as he was brushing dirt off his hair.

"I told you she cannot be trusted," growled Gwaine. Merlin saw that the knight had pulled out his sword.

All eyes turned to Morgana. She stood just in front of what was left of the fireplace with one hand on the wall for support. Her hair and her dress were all covered in ashes.

"You're going to let him go!" she screamed out angrily. She turned to Arthur with fury in her eyes. "What else am I supposed to do? You act all _noble_ with your Round Table and your knights, yet you're going to let your most loyal friend risk his life. Well, I won't allow it! I can't! I… I've got no one else. No where else to go."

A bubble of hot, reassuring relief took birth in Merlin's chest. For a moment, he felt like running to her and sweeping her into his arms. If Arthur and the knights had not been in the room, he might have. A tiny bit of him had been afraid that Morgana was turning her back on them. And on _him_. But she wasn't.

"I didn't expect that," murmured Gwaine, though he was still eyeing Morgana suspiciously.

"Didn't expect _what_?" said King Lot. "Are you blind? They're in love. I say let's marry them now and settle this once and for all."

"That's not an option!" cried out Arthur, outraged.

Merlin could only grin, and hope that he wasn't blushing too much. As the level of tension inside the room was slowly going back to normal, Merlin took the opportunity to return the many objects and pieces of rubble to their rightful places. The chandelier lifted back into its place. The chairs and jugs flipped over. The rocks settled on the walls as though they had never fallen off. His final touch was to send a cool breeze swirling around Morgana that shook the ashes off her hair and dress.

"I think you can put away your sword now," Galahad said to Gwaine.

Arthur had moved closer to Merlin's side. "She does have a point," he said in a low voice. "What am I supposed to do with her?"

That question was on Merlin's mind as well. But the others were not going to like the answer. He wanted to offer her a choice. For him, it was more like a wish that he was making in his heart. For her, it would determine how she was going to spend the rest of her life.

They all seemed to be waiting for him to speak up.

"You can't come with me," he said directly to Morgana. He tried to ignore her piercing glare. "The map is my quest. You have your own to choose now. Arthur is riding back to Camelot to face Morgause. You can ride with him and face her as your enemy. Or…" He took a deep breath. "Or you can go back to Morgause. No one will stop you. If you ride ahead you will reach Camelot before Arthur's men and you'll have a chance to warn her."

Arthur could not hide the bewilderment on his face. "Are you mad?" he bellowed.

But Merlin cut him off right away. "This is not an easy choice. You have a lot to make up for in Camelot. As for Morgause, she will welcome you back but she may not trust you as she once did. Whatever you choose now, it will be for the rest of your life."

Morgana shook her hair. A single tear slid on her cheeks, making a clear line on her pale skin.

"What if I choose another life?" she asked almost pleadingly. "What if I choose to go back to the way things were?"

"We can't go back to the way things were," he said resolutely.

Several times, Morgana opened her mouth to reply, but the words did not seem to want to come out. At last, when she seemed about to break into sobs, she ran out of the room, leaving a cloud of ashes behind her.


	21. Chapter 20: Like a Storm

**Word from the Author:**

**Major fluff and Merlin/Morgana in this chapter. If you don't fancy that pairing, well you had better wait for the next chapter.**

**Thanks for reading!**

…**.**

**Chapter 20: Like a Storm**

At the end of the afternoon, Merlin sat alone on the stone wall overlooking a deep valley beyond. He had given up the blue coat and he was wearing just the white shirt and brown trousers, having failed to find his servant's tunic anywhere in the monastery. There was a cool breeze ruffling the long grass all around him. The cold was making it shiver, but it didn't matter; soon, he would be flying away wearing nothing but feathers.

His first attempt at transforming into a bird had been disastrous. He had performed the spell too quickly in his haste to escape the bandits who had captured him. As a man in a small falcon's body, he had been unable to find his bearing enough to fly in a proper manner and he had ended up shot instead. He would have died if not for Morgana's healing.

Now he was quite ready to do the transformation again. This time he would try to let go of his human body completely, keeping his thoughts bent only on flying. It was the same with the aging spell; for the magic to take hold, he had to do more than just look the part. He had to _become_ an eighty years-old man, body and soul.

As for his path, the map had already showed him where he needed to go. As soon as he had placed his hand on it, he had seen a familiar image in his mind. The Black Lake of Aria's Cradle. It was the lake where he had fought a dark Shadow, the embodiment of a dreadful curse. He had fought it and destroyed it with light. Arthur had helped a little.

But the Black Lake wasn't really his final destination. It was merely the doorway to the World of the Dead.

_This is the stupidest plan ever_, he thought as he held the map on his knees.

In his heart, he wished that he was going with Arthur to face whatever evil Morgause had in store for them. He felt deeply drawn towards this course of action perhaps because he was, amongst other things, a dragonlord. However, King Lot's stories of the time of wizards had awakened something else inside of him: a will to explore his magic to its full extend. He had always been hesitant to use his powers, and with good reasons. Maybe now was the time for him to break free of his self-imposed barriers.

Besides, it was not the first time that he had deliberately chosen to leave Arthur to his own fate. He had left done so the day he had flown to Aria's Cradle. Arthur had survived quite well without him. Why should it be different now? Why was he filled with so much dread?

_She'll make the right choice_.

He was trying hard not to think of the consequences of Morgana deciding to join forces with Morgause. Before he had left, he had had Arthur swear to let her go if that was her choice. The young king had reluctantly agreed, while insisting on the fact that he would make it Merlin's responsibility to destroy her if she did turn against them.

"She won't," he had told Arthur convincingly.

"I sure hope she doesn't," the king had said. "Or this is going to be the shortest offensive in history."

"If I succeed, you won't have to fight at all," Merlin had replied.

"_If_ you succeed."

"You don't think I will?"

"No, not really," Arthur had said with a grin.

"Then I suppose you should start looking for a new servant."

"That can't be avoided now, can it, _wizard_? _If_ you return, I shall have to make you advisor to the king, like in the old tradition."

At a loss for words, Merlin had merely nodded, before being swept into a brotherly hug by Gwaine and Galahad. At last, Arthur had hugged him too, and had made him promise to return from the Otherworld _alive_.

Maybe the King of Camelot wasn't such a _prat_ after all.

_Arthur is the Once and Future King_, he thought with sudden conviction. _He'll be fine. Gwaine and Galahad will die before they let anything happen to him. _

He had to let his fear of loosing Arthur go if he was to succeed on his quest. He couldn't loose his focus.

Another idea swept through his mind and he tried hard to shake it away. _Morgana_. The way he had seen her surrounded by a white light; it had been so beautiful and disturbing, like a vision. Maybe he would just fly in front her window, disguised as a falcon, just to get a glimpse of her.

His thoughts were so bent on Morgana that he almost didn't hear her call out his name. He wheeled around slowly, unsure if he was awake of dreaming.

He stumbled off the stone wall in surprise.

There she was: her black hair blowing around her face like a storm as she ran. Her blue dress was rippling in the wind like a river. Her sparkling eyes were fixed upon him. He was so shocked to see her running through the field to find him that he stood rooted on the spot, unable to move or even to breathe.

She stopped running only when they were standing face to face.

When she spoke, her voice was hoarse and breathless. "Don't go. I choose _you_. That's my choice. Whatever you want me to do, I'll do it. I choose you. I can't… I'm nothing without you."

Merlin thought at that moment that his chest was going to explode. He felt completely overwhelmed and painfully guilty all at once. Taking a step closer, he took her face between his hands and kissed her forehead, taking in her scent, feeling the familiar pulse of her magic tingling against his.

"You're wrong," he murmured. "You don't see yourself the way I do. You're a good person. You'll do great things. You just don't realise it yet."

"I want to do these things with you," she replied pleadingly.

He wanted nothing else then to accept her offer and forget everything else. Yet that was not his quest. Where he was going, he could not take her.

"I'm yours," he said in a strained voice. "But you'll have to wait a little longer."

She looked up at him in dismay. "I don't want to wait," she whispered. "For the last three years, I have wondered why you were pushing me away. I'm here to tell you that you don't need to anymore. I know what I am and what I have done, but now I can choose something different for myself. I don't know the future, but I'm sure it's with you. I've never been so certain of anything else in my life."

He shook his head resolutely. How could he take her with him to the Otherworld? He didn't even know if he would return. He couldn't risk her life as well.

"This is my quest," he said with as much conviction as he could muster. "And if you really want to choose _us_, you will go with Arthur."

She held his gaze for a moment, taking in his answer. He tried not to blink or show signs of weakness. He was very close to giving her everything she wanted, only because he wanted it too.

At length, she looked away and smiled weakly. "I don't really fancy Arthur, you know. He can be such a… _prat_."

"I _know_," he said, smiling as well.

"And I'm not in love with Arthur," she said, stepping closer.

"Me neither," he said teasingly.

Now he could smell her hair and see the tiny tears on her eyelashes. Her lips were almost touching his.

"I'm glad you're not," she whispered.

"I'm glad too."

The kiss that followed was the most passionate he had ever known. It sent little sparks of magic like lightening before a storm. The wind was swirling around them, embracing them. The moment seemed frozen in time. None of them seemed willing to let go.

Yet after only a short while the embrace ended and the moment was gone. In the fading light of the day, a sole figure could be seen standing on the hill near the wall. It was a woman with black hair and pale skin, almost like stone. Above her head, a falcon was flying in circles. With wings stretched wide, the falcon flew higher and higher, until finally its shadow faded in the darkening sky and it was gone.

Now Merlin was truly alone.


	22. Chapter 21: Dreamer's Quest

Really, really apologise for the long time since the last update; nice weather and all that. I promise that I will see this story through.

Thanks for your patience and enjoy.

**Chapter 21: Dreamer's Quest**

King Lot's five thousand men were on their way, but there was not yet the sign of any army on approach. The hillside, the fields; all were peaceful and quiet but for the occasional scout or messenger galloping at high speed. Inside the monastery, however, it was quite a different story. Known a place of silence and prayers, the old fortress was now filled with echoes of its glorious past: marching feet and the clanging of shields and swords. King Lot, it seemed, had quite an arsenal at his disposal and his men had been promptly put to the task of emptying out the armoury. The weapons had to polish and prepared swiftly to be used in the upcoming battle.

Alone on the top of the highest tower, Arthur Pendragon was restless. His mind had not yet managed to work around the fact that he was preparing to march on Camelot, his city. Also, he knew nothing about those five thousand men that he was going to lead, except the fact that they were loyal to King Lot. How was he, King Arthur of Camelot, going to inspire these men to follow him into battle? He was a stranger to them. Moreover, he was unsure about what they were going to face. Morgause's thugs would be no match for King Lot's army. But what of her magic and of the Dragonlord by her side? The Dragon Shades were now guarding the city like vultures. What could armed men do against such dark magic?

Where was _Merlin_ when you really needed him?

Arthur sighed heavily. The knot in his stomach had nothing to do with the nervousness of having to lead five thousand men. It was Merlin's _stupid_ quest. Only an _idiot_ would think that going to the World of the Dead was a good plan. What did he really hope to achieve by it? _Undo what Morgause has done. Find a way to overpower the man called LeNoir._ No one could doubt Merlin's good intentions, but it was a dreamer's quest. The World of the Dead itself was an ancient tale. But, in spite of appearances, Merlin was _not_ a fool and he knew the stakes well. He would not let this go. He would face whatever evil lay out there for him. He would offer his life without a second thought.

And _that_ was what scared Arthur the most.

"That's not a bad hiding place."

Arthur did not need to turn around to recognize Gwaine's casual tone. The knight strode to the king's side to look over the hillside as well. His hair was wind-swept and his hands dirty, probably from riding on the muddy road.

"Looks peaceful and quiet up here," said Gwaine, "but they're out there, Sire. You can be sure of that. I just saw them myself. At least eight hundred men are gathered just beyond that rocky hill. Five thousand might have been exaggerated, but you will have at least two thousand, if not more."

Arthur pressed his hands harder on the stone wall. He knew that the delays were too short and that the other lords just might not be able to answer in time. Still, it was more than he had hoped for when he had followed Merlin to this distant land.

"Two thousand will do fine," he said to Gwaine.

"It will be a lot more when we reach Camelot and regroup with our people," the knight offered. "The important point is that you have made a powerful friend here."

Arthur could not help but scoff. "_Merlin_ has made a powerful friend. We are merely guests. Even Morgana is considered a visitor although she has lived here for years now. It was the same thing in Aria's Cradle. Being _Lord_ Merlin suits him. Just look at the way everyone looks up to him. King Lot treats him almost like a son."

Gwaine smiled annoyingly at that. "You can't have him all to yourself, you know."

"I can't have a _sorcerer_ for a servant, that much is certain," Arthur replied between gritted teeth. "If we return – when we return – things will be different. It will never be as it was. Magic will no longer be outlawed, and my advisor will be a… – I can't believe I'm saying that – a _wizard_."

Arthur felt the corner of his lip twitch at the idea. Merlin the Wizard. It was such a strange notion. Whatever had happened to Merlin the Idiot Manservant?

"Change isn't all that bad," said Gwaine with a grin. "I'm sure Merlin won't mind letting go of a few of his servant's duties."

Arthur sighed heavily again. "If he lives," he whispered.

It was no use hiding from Gwaine what he had been brooding about for the last few hours.

"I'm sure he'll return," said Gwaine. He pressed a hand on Arthur's shoulder reassuringly. "He's a little tougher than he looks."

Arthur kept shaking his head. "It's the World of the Dead. How many do you know who have actually made it back from that place? Even in legends…"

"Morgause did, with that map that now Merlin has." Gwaine's tone was firm, but Arthur could not help but notice a glimmer of doubt in the tall knight's eyes.

"I don't know much about magic," said Arthur, "but I know that Merlin is not like Morgause. She's not afraid to call upon dark powers to reach her goals, but Merlin…"

He let his voice trail.

"… He wouldn't be able to," said Gwaine, finishing the sentence. "It's not in his nature."

"Exactly," put in Arthur.

They remained silent for a while, looking at the horizon and the fields below. With his keen sight, Arthur sought that bit of stone wall, overlooking the monastery, where he had last seen his friend.

Gwaine seemed to notice something about the way Arthur was staring. "I take it you saw him turn into that bird. Impressive bit of magic, huh?"

Arthur rolled up his eyes. "I wasn't really thinking about the _bird_," he muttered.

"Then I take it you saw the kiss too," said Gwaine, half smiling.

"Do you really think that this is what it looks like? _Love_?"

Gwaine's eyes narrowed. "For Merlin, maybe it is. It's _her_ I'm less sure about. She's tasted darkness, and sooner or later she'll want to taste it again, especially now that her memory has come back."

Arthur peered into the knight's face. "Do you think that there's anything that we can do?"

To his surprise, Gwaine threw his head back and burst out laughing. "Arthur Pendragon, King of Hearts!" he cried out. But as soon as he saw Arthur's bewildered face, he became more serious, "Love is not a topic for the Round Table, or the war council. You shouldn't try to put yourself between them. Not unless you have a good reason to."

"Like if she tries to kill him," agreed Arthur with a grin.

"Then you _would_ have a good reason to interfere, Sire," the knight concluded.

"Let's at least keep our eyes opened, shall we?" Arthur said as he was wheeling the knight towards the doorway that would lead them back into the fortress.

Then something caught his attention. A streak of blue, at high speed, on the hillside.

As quick as he could, he raced back to the wall, to see what it was. There was indeed the silhouette of a rider in a blue shimmering cape, galloping on the main road and away from the monastery.

But this wasn't the cape or the outline of a knight.

"_Morgana_," he whispered.

"Should we pursue her, Sire?" Gwaine asked straight away.

But Merlin's words were echoing in Arthur's mind. "No, I won't stop her. I told Merlin that I wouldn't. But if Morgana has chosen Morgause, there will be consequences."

"Indeed, there will be."

Gwaine's reply was bitter, and Arthur knew that the knight meant every word. So Morgana had made her choice, and it wasn't the one that they were hoping for. All that they could do now was carry on with their plan and rely on Merlin to do his part.

As they were watching Morgana ride out of King Lot's Refuge, leagues away from where they stood, a small hawk was carefully landing on the edge of a black lake. Its waters were dark and still like a mirror. The hawk tumbled awkwardly on the ground and its wings flapped helplessly on the sand. Clearly exhausted, the bird of prey lay motionless for a while, until a pale glimmer began to envelop its whole body. The feathers seemed to stretch and stretch, and soon the powerful talons became feet, the wings became arms and the beady eyes turned from black to blue.

Merlin's entire body gave a violent shiver as he lay on the cold and wet ground. Flying freely had been exhilarating at first, but the trip had been long and wearing. Now he was feeling the full extend of the effort that his transformation had required. His head was pounding and his mind was struggling just to find its bearings again.

He remained seated on the same spot where he had landed for a long time, allowing his senses to fall back into place. At least he hadn't dropped the map. He had kept it tightly trapped in his talons, like a prey. It was now folded on his lap, tamed and harmless. Now that he had set his mind on using it, its protective magic had strangely lifted, as though it had sensed his need for it.

_But where was that Boatman…?_

As the sun got lower on the horizon, a breeze began to blow around him and the waters of the lake began to stir. The sky darkened and Merlin felt a few drops of rain on his hair. He raised his eyes up, appraising his situation and whether or not he needed to find shelter, but when he looked at the lake again, the outline had changed. The black waters were now covered in a thick fog and the narrow pebble beach had been replaced by a walkway of large stones.

Ignoring the rain, Merlin made his way towards the lake. He wasn't surprised, as his eyes got accustomed to the pale light, to see the ghostly shape of the Boatman slowly emerge from the white veil, standing at the edge of the stone pier.

Yet no matter how well he tried to see, the one thing Merlin needed just wasn't there.

"Where's the boat?" he asked.

The Boatman's old and wrinkled face remained unchanged.

"I want to cross," said Merlin as convincingly as he could.

The rain just kept getting heavier and heavier and the fog was so thick that he could almost touch it.

"You're the Boatman, aren't you?" He tried not to sound too annoyed. "There should be a boat. What am I supposed to do? Do you need payment? I don't have any gold. There's something I'm not doing right, isn't there?"

He was just pacing around nervously and thinking about his options when the ghostly form suddenly lifted a hand. _He's pointing at the map_, Merlin thought instantly.

"It's not a usual map," he said to the Boatman, handing him the folded piece of parchment. "It brought me here. But I don't know what else to do with it. It's supposed to take me to the person I need to see, I think…"

He had barely finished his sentence when all of a sudden the Boatman unfolded the map, humming softly to himself as he did. After a few minutes, he lifted his wrinkled hand and pointed onwards in the general direction of the lake.

"I don't get it," said Merlin. "There's no boat. How am I supposed to…?"

But then he saw something that made him gasp. The walkway of stone that had been only a man's length before had stretched all the way across the lake. It was more than a path; it was a bridge. It rose above the black water and seemed to disappear into the white fog.

Merlin nodded to the Boatman. "Who will I meet?"

But his question remained unanswered. There was no escaping it; he had to cross that bridge.

Slowly, he began to ascend. Each step was taking him into the thicker fog and further away from the world that he knew. He tried not to think about whether or not he was going to return. It was his quest, after all. He had chosen this. It was his destiny to make the world of Albion possible, and if this was the only way, then he was glad to do it.

He walked on the bridge of stone for hours it seemed, until he could no longer see the water below or the sky above. Even the rain had stopped, or he had passed beyond it.

Just when he was thinking that his feet needed to rest, suddenly he stepped into a different type of ground. It was no longer stone, but grass. He had come at the other side of the bridge. The white fog was no longer as thick, but now it was moving with shadows and shapes. Soon he would be seeing the person that he was supposed to meet.

He felt the presence before he even saw him. His heart gave a jolt at the idea that they were going to face each other again.

That deep voice, he had never forgotten it…

"Hullo, son."


	23. Chapter 22: Dream of Things to Come

**Chapter 22: Dream of Things to Come**

Morgana rode as fast as she could and against the wind. It didn't matter that her body was aching all over. It didn't matter that her fingers were stiff with cold. She had a plan. She knew what she had to do and all her thoughts were bent on that one objective. To set her mind on that goal had not been easy, but now that her decision had been made, she felt sure that nothing could make her turn back. For once in her life, she was going to do something for others and not for her own gain. She was about to commit the single most selfless act she had ever done.

And she was doing it for Merlin.

Why shouldn't she do it for him? He had done so much for her without ever asking for anything in return. Everything about him was right and true, while all of her life had been exactly the opposite. He had showed her a world of friendship and love, when her world had been filled with so much darkness and revenge. Without her memory, she had been unable to explain the hatred that she felt, but she had always known that she must have done something really, really bad. But Merlin had taught her how to be whole again. He had given meaning to her life. And it was that one speck of hope, that small chance at happiness that she was now hanging on to. Her memory might be back, but all the suppressed hatred was not enough to overshadow the few months of total joy that she had known.

Because she had been with Merlin, and when she was with him, everything was possible. Laughing was possible. Loving was possible. Joy and happiness were within her reach. Just the idea of enjoying another sunset under a warm blanket, side by side with Merlin, gave her something to look forward to. She had never had anything so powerful in her life. And it was such a simple thing too: love. No one had ever told her – not even Morgause – what lay at the end of their goal. She had been bred by Morgause to bring about revenge. But what kind of life was there after for her? What could one do after so much darkness and hate? She knew the answer now: there was only an empty void. Revenge was the end, while love was the beginning.

Love. She was in love with Merlin. Arthur's idiot manservant. The peasant boy from Ealdor. Yet Merlin was so much more than that. He was the only good thing in her life. The only one who cared for her happiness.

She pushed her horse to go even faster, but the beast neigh and shook its head in protest. The road was steep and the ground uneven. The path was getting narrower now that they had entered the forest. Even the light was getting scarce. There was no escaping it: she would have to stop for the night.

Bringing her horse to a slower pace, she wheeled off track and found a small stream surrounded by large trees that would provide some shelter. She sat on the wet ground with her back to a rock. The word to conjure a small flame came easily. She had heard Merlin say it so often before. She could rest here. She knew he would approve of the place.

Then something caught her attention. Though the light of the day was fading, the stream seemed unusually sparkling, as though small diamonds were floating on the surface of the water. She kneeled besides the stream, and as her fingers touched the water, she felt a strange tickling on her skin.

"Do not be afraid, Morgana Pendragon," said a crystal-like voice.

In front of her eyes, floating in the evening air, were small bubbles of water with faces in them.

"We are Velia," said the voice. "Spirits of the stream."

"How did you know my name?"

The clear bubbles floated even higher. "We know much about you. Your coming has been foretold. Much is known about you and Merlin Emrys."

Morgana took a step back, unsure if she should trust such creatures.

"We know what you are planning to do," whispered the voice. "And we know how much it pains you."

"How can you pretend to know me?" replied Morgana, feeling defiant.

"We know your heart. We know of your scars," rang the voice. "We can heal you. Let us heal you."

Suddenly, Morgana's chest felt tight, as though her heart was going to burst out of it. Her eyes were rapidly filling with tears.

"What are you doing to me?" she muttered, clutching her chest.

But her body felt lump. Her hand was touching the water and the strange tingling on her skin was now travelling throughout her body. Her eyelids were very heavy and without even realizing it she had laid down besides the stream, her hand brushing its calm water.

"We mean you no harm," whispered the voice softly to her ears. No, it was inside her _mind_.

"I have to go…" Morgana began to say. Her own voice sounded quite sleepy. Her brain was blurry. "Merlin… I can't let him…"

The last she heard of the voices was, "We know. Sleep now."

Then she fell through a veil.

Suddenly, she was in a dream world. Her dress was no longer dark but light and white. She stood on top of a hill, watching the fields below. The view before her was stunning: green pastures, tall trees, a lake at the bottom of the hill, and a clear blue sky. She knew it wasn't real, yet it _felt_ real. She could hear the rustling of the leaves and feel the wind on her skin.

And laughter. Many voices were laughing at once. They were young voices, and not far from where she stood. She felt a powerful urge to join with those voices, to find who they belonged to. Everything about this dream was leading her there. Even the breeze was leading her into that direction. Slowly, she started to walk on the long grass. She was on top of a hill, and the voices were coming from below, near the lake.

She took almost no notice of the walk down the hill. All of her thoughts were turned towards the group of people that were becoming visible with every step. There was a tall lad of about twelve or thirteen years-old who was playing with a wooden sword. His opponent was a second boy, shorter and thinner, at least two or three years younger, and who seemed to be greatly enjoying making his older brother run after him.

There could be no doubts that they were brothers. The tone of their skin, the similar dark brown hair, the same mischievous manners; everything about the two boys spelled quite clearly that they were siblings.

Morgana's heart suddenly seemed to stop. Those two boys looked so familiar and so real. This was a dream, wasn't it? But it felt like more than a dream. Could it be a vision? Something that the Velia wanted her to see? If it was indeed a vision, then those two boys…

The idea pierced her heart like an arrow. She could feel herself trembling.

These were _her_ boys. _Hers_ and _Merlin's_. There could be no doubt about the father. Nothing else could explain the familiarity of their appearance.

And just when she thought that her heart was going to burst with joy, another young figure came running to join the two brothers. It was a little girl, no more than four or five years-old. She had white skin, long and wavy black hair, and a pale pink dress.

Morgana watched her run and then jump into the arms of the older brother. Then her gaze retraced the little girl's steps to a small cottage that she had not noticed before. It stood half-concealed by tall trees and the steep hill. Its highest window was overlooking the lake. A long silhouette was leaning rather heavily against the doorframe.

_Merlin_, thought Morgana, her heart on fire. _These are my children. Our children. One day, we will live here and we will have this. We will be happy_.

She meant towards him, but suddenly she was forced to take a step back when she almost bumped into a small boy.

The younger of the two boys was standing in front of her with a look of amusement on his face.

"Hello," he said cheerfully.

"Hi," she replied, a little nervously.

"What are you doing up here?"

He had such a sweet disposition that Morgana could only smile at him. Also, up close he was the spitted-image of Merlin.

"I'm not sure, but I'm glad to be here. Whatever _here_ is."

The boy's look of amusement turned into a more serious expression. "You can't stay," he said bluntly.

"Why? Can't I see your father?"

Now his expression became plain stern. "This is more than a vision. They can't see you but I can. So it means that there is a veil between worlds that has been lifted. It's my gift, you see."

Morgana was shocked by the maturity of this boy, so young in age. What a strange gift to have. Was she responsible for it? Would her Seer powers transfer to her son? To all her children? And what about Merlin's magic?

In spite of her sympathy for the boy, she had to ask him the question that was haunting her.

"Do you know why I'm here?"

"It's not safe to walk between worlds," he replied plainly. "Bad things will find you. You might be tempted. It's not good for you here."

"What bad things?"

But they were interrupted by a loud calling. "Emrys, come back here! You haven't finished your training!"

The young boy rolled his eyes up briefly, and then his expression turned playful again.

"I've got to go." He smiled apologetically as he started to walk back. "Just don't stay here. Go back. Finish what you started; whatever it is."

But Morgana's mind was buzzing with questions. "Your name is Emrys?" she cried out to him as he was walking quickly down the hill.

He turned to look at her, smiled in acknowledgement, and then he left at a run.

Morgana watched him leave for several minutes, savouring the moment. She knew, somehow, that this encounter had changed her deeply. She wanted to fix that image in her mind, to remember every word, every movement of the wind, every sound of laughter and running feet.

A sudden hissing sort of whisper made her wheel around in half-surprise, half-fright.

_You promised us, Morgana._

In front of her was a young boy, not older than Emrys, but he was pale and ghostly and dripping with water. His hair was splattered on his forehead. His eyes were grey and empty.

Morgana felt a scream in her throat, but none came out of her mouth. She was rooted on the spot. She could not even turn her head towards the lake again.

_You promised us, Morgana._

She blinked and now there were many ghost-like forms, not just the one boy. There were women and children and men of every age.

_You promised us, Morgana. _

All the voices were speaking as one. She took a step back, but the apparitions began to advance on her. Every time she dared to look up, there seemed to be more and more. They were covering the hills as far as her eyes could see. They were everywhere, except behind her, so she kept taking steps back.

"Leave me alone! Let me go! How do I get out of this dream?" she said out loud.

Her pleading seemed to have no effect. She had become the prey and the ghosts were closing in on her. They were going to eliminate her, so soon after she had seen so much happiness in her future.

_You promised us, Morgana. _

It was true: she _had_ promised. To herself. To Morgause. To their kind. She had promised revenge. But she knew now that it was not revenge that those spirits needed: it was rest. And, as much as she hated to admit it, there was only one who could give them that. It was _Arthur_. Arthur's rule was going to undo many wrongs. It had already started. With Merlin by his side, it was possible. And she would be a part of that, or she would die trying.

The scream that escaped her did not even sound like her own. "Let me go!"

Her foot touched the water of the lake, surprising her with piercing cold. Her gaze quickly sought the cottage. It was still there, but no silhouette on the doorframe could be seen.

"Merlin, help me!" she cried out. "Please!"

_You promised us!_

"Peace!" she yelled. "You shall have peace!"

And with those words, she fell backwards. Her back hit the water first, then the back of her head, and then her face. She lay suspended there for a while, seeing nothing but blackness above and many pair of eyes peering down at her.

And then, in the blink of an eye, she was no longer floating but lying on the cold and muddy ground, sputtering a mouthful of water and struggling to breathe.

"Velia…?" she managed to say.

But as her eyes adjusted to the pale morning light, she saw none of the sparkling water or of the spirits of the stream. She was alone in a dense forest. The day had come but she had had little rest. Whatever the Velia had meant to show her, it had taken most of the night.

Willing her body to move, she struggled to her feet. Her blue dress was soaked through and she was shivering with cold. At least, her horse had not run away. It was waiting patiently close by.

She had thought for sure that she was done for. She had been close to death before, but this had somewhat been closer. The ghosts had meant to make her pay for not keeping to her word. They had a right to. They were the ones that she had wanted to avenge ever since she had known about her powers.

Yet one little's boy words were ringing louder and clearer in her mind now: _finish what you started_. She knew that he didn't mean revenge. What would such a cheerful child know of revenge? No, that could not be it. She felt sure, in the depth of her heart, that he had meant to put her on the right path. Merlin had his quest to become the most powerful dragonlord ever to exist. Arthur was on his way to show his quality as a ruler.

This only left her with one deed to perform; the only one thing that neither Merlin nor Arthur were destined to accomplish.

She was going to kill Morgause.

…

_**Thanks for reading so far. I hope you liked this chapter because it's essential to how the story is going to end. **_

_**For those who are wondering, I haven't forgotten about the dragon egg. It's going to help Merlin in the next chapters.**_

_**Don't be deceived by the slow pace for updates. The conclusion for this story is all planned out. I just don't have much time to write (sad face).**_

_**Please drop a review, even just a short one. It helps me write faster!**_

**_P.S.: If you think the 'vision of the future' thing is similar to what I did in "_Harry Potter and Archway of the Dead_", then you are a really smart person. But the consequences are different for Harry and for Morgana. Harry sees something bad; and Morgana something good. Just read _Archway of the Dead_._**

_**HighEmpress **_


	24. Chapter 23: The Council of Dragonlords

**A quick update concerning the action:**

_Arthur, Gwaine and Galahad are waiting for King Lot's two thousand men to gather and then they are going to take back Camelot from Morgause and the dragonlord LeNoir._

_Morgana is on her way to Camelot at full speed to kill Morgause._

_Merlin has reached the World of the Dead where he hopes to find the power to defeat LeNoir. _

…

**Chapter 23: The Council of Dragonlords**

Nothing in the world could have prepared him for this.

"Hello, Father," he greeted, his voice shaking.

He fell silent at once, completely overcome with emotions. There were a thousand questions that he wanted to ask, but no words were coming out.

"You look tired, son," said his father after a short while.

Merlin's hand instinctively brushed against his brow. "It hasn't been… easy."

"But you are doing extremely well," replied Balinor. A hint of a smiled flashed across his face. "No father could be prouder."

Merlin felt his own face grow suddenly hot. It wasn't often that his efforts were being so wholeheartedly acknowledged.

"Now I am here," Merlin said feebly, glancing behind him at the long bridge of stone. "And the map brought me to you. So I guess there is a purpose to all of this."

Their eyes met and Merlin found their expression hard to read. He remembered perfectly every one of his father's features: the deep dark eyes, the brown messy hair, the long face, the haggard appearance. He knew him by heart. But what was this new frown? Was it worry or fear? What could a man like Balinor possibly be afraid of?

"You're not the one I'm supposed to meet," said Merlin with sudden realisation.

Balinor shook his head. "You have to come with me," he said bluntly.

He began to walk into the thicker mist and Merlin immediately followed him. Now that they were stepping deeper into the World of the Dead, the young wizard could somewhat sense the presence of death all around him. It was like a cold shiver crawling on his skin, making the hair on his forearms stand up. Also, the mist wasn't just a thick cloud; it was actually a mass of ghostly silhouettes that were undulating around him. Some of them were coming close enough to almost touch him, but most of them were clearing the way as he passed.

"What is this place?" said Merlin under his breath.

His father glanced back at him briefly, and returned his attention forward.

"This is the Otherworld. It's an _in between_ place."

Merlin frowned. "It's not the World of the Dead?"

Balinor's reply was a deep muttering, as though he was speaking more to himself than to anyone else. "You're not dead yet, son."

Merlin considered the idea. His body most certainly didn't feel dead. His muscles were still aching from the strain of having flown over such a long distance. The growing chill of this strange place was making his limbs shiver and his teeth chatter.

Still, something about his father's behaviour and tone was making him uneasy about his present predicament.

"What about you? You're dead, but you're also here."

His father slowed down his pace, allowing Merlin to step closer to hear his reply. "You are right, Merlin. I am dead. Nothing can change that. I have been to the other side. But we are creatures of magic. Sometimes more is required of us, and I could not miss the chance of seeing you again." He leaned in closer and his voice became more like a whisper. "Whatever they tell you, you still can chose your path. They need you more than you need _them_. And they have no power over you."

Merlin felt more puzzled then ever. "_Who_ are we talking about?"

But he stopped talking as soon as he saw the new scenery in front of him. The ghostly mist had suddenly lifted and beyond it, there was now a field of shimmering white snow and pale blue sky above his head. The plain was reaching out as far as the eyes could see, and on each side of it were tall White Mountains that seemed to be made out of ice. The breeze was cold and seemed to blow through him. Yet there was a sort of wild beauty about all that ice and snow that was deeply moving.

Suddenly, a loud roaring made him look upwards. Above his head was the most incredible sight. _Dragons_. Dozens of them. They were swarming in like a group of overlarge and graceful birds. Their powerful bodies, undulating in the sky, were everywhere around him. Some of them were snapping their strong jaws; others were brushing their wings against the snow, sending swirls of white crystals flying in the air.

Never in his life had he imagined that he would be gazing upon such a sight. To see one dragon was impressive enough, but to see so many moving and flying was like something out of a dream. It was such a heart-warming moment that it made him forget that he was cold. All that he could do was walk in circles, ankle-deep into the snow, and stare upwards at the scene.

"Amazing," he breathed out.

"Indeed," said his father.

It suddenly struck Merlin that Balinor was not staring at the dragons; his eyes were fixed upon his son.

The young wizard tried not to feel alarmed. "Are they going to land?" he asked.

"No, they don't like the snow," Balinor explained.

Merlin shook his hands together and blew some hot air into them. His breath was coming out in smoke. "Aren't you cold?"

His father's face became dark. "No. The cold is the reason why you can't stay here too long. Listen, son." He took three long strides and suddenly he was besides Merlin, whispering into his ear. "You mustn't do what you don't feel is right. A long time ago, I didn't listen to my instinct; I did only what I was told, and many people died. Don't be like me. Trust yourself to make the right decision." He was insisting breathlessly. It was almost a plea.

"That's quite enough, Balinor. We'll have no more of your warnings."

Merlin glanced at his father, but he had already stopped talking and he had taken a step back, bowing his head to the newcomer.

This new speaker was a man in a grey robe and with a white beard that was trailing into the snow. He looked even older than Merlin did when he was disguised as Old Merlin. Yet there was a certain familiarity in his eyes…

"Merlin, this is Lord Branan Brittanicus, your great-great-grandfather," said Balinor dutifully. "He is also the High Lord of the Council of Dragonlords."

The use of the present tense did not escape Merlin. "Is? But aren't all the dragonlords dead?"

"Yes, yes," said the elder, waving his hand in dismissal. "But as you can see our spirits are quite strong."

As he glanced around him, Merlin counted six other men in long robes treading on the thick snow. Most of them had displeased faces, though some of them had such long beards that their expression was not easy to read.

"So few," muttered Balinor, obviously surprised.

"A council is a council, no matter how many," retorted the old man.

The sharpness of his tone did not escape the wizard.

"There used to be more?" Merlin asked his father, ignoring the glare of his ancestor.

"Yes, yes," replied the other before Balinor could speak. "We can't help it if others decide to move on. It's their choice."

But Merlin's attention was turned towards his father. "Why aren't you on the council?"

Balinor's mood did not improve. "My presence was needed elsewhere. You asked me once why I did not return to Ealdor, to you and your mother. I lied."

Merlin's heart sank. He could well remember a conversation about the kind of life they would have had together as a family. It had always been a small comfort to know that his father had meant to protect the woman he loved, that he had stayed away to protect her.

"You _lied_?" he said between gritted teeth.

"Yes, yes, but he had a good reason," said the old man speedily. "Now we have more pressing matters to discuss."

Grabbing Merlin's shoulder, he stirred him towards the assembly, while Balinor remained standing on the spot. Merlin glanced back at his father, but seeing that he wasn't about to offer any other explanation, he turned his attention forward instead, feeling somewhat flustered by this new information.

The dragons were now flying low over the group of seven elders and Merlin. Three of the largest beasts were hovering in place, suspended by their storm-like breath and enormous wings. The others were moving in slow motion, refusing to land or to touch the snow, yet still eager to remain close to the council.

"We will now speak of the matter of the witch Morgause, the dragonlord LeNoir brought back from the dead and the spirits that he has stolen from this realm," called Lord Brittanicus, addressing the other members of the council. He had tied his long white beard into his belt to avoid it from flying all around his face. "On the fate of Morgause, it has been agreed that she shall die. Do you concur?"

The others nodded almost in unison, while Merlin remained rooted on the spot, his cheeks red with cold. So far, he did not like the tone of this council.

"On the matter of the spirit of LeNoir, as a Shade he does not belong to the world of the living. His power over the dragon-spirits is strong and it cannot be allowed to continue. The unnatural state of his existence demands drastic measure. LeNoir's spirit must be imprisoned inside the crystal of Fyr where he will no longer be a threat. Merlin, son of Balinor, you must do this task."

Seven old and shrivelled faces turned towards Merlin at once. With a rapid glance, he sought his father's approval, but Balinor's stare was unreadable. _Trust yourself to make the right decision_, Merlin thought, remembering the words spoken just a few moments ago. The idea of trapping LeNoir's spirit inside a crystal wasn't altogether insane or unachievable. He had managed it once when he had defeated Cornelius Sigan.

He was about to give his answer when the old Lord Brittanicus began to speak again. "The Council releases the crystal of Fyr to Merlin, son of Balinor."

A bright light burst out of thin air, right in front of Merlin. In a few seconds, it became a solid precious stone, no bigger than a strawberry and transparent like a diamond. Slowly, Merlin reached out and took it in the palm of his hand. To his surprise, the light shining through his fingers came out a pale shade of green.

"So it will be for LeNoir. Does the Council concur?"

The seven elders nodded fervently.

"Now," continued Lord Brittanicus, his tone somewhat more grave. "On the matter of the dragon-spirits who have been stolen from this realm by LeNoir's selfish actions, there is but one course of action. They must return to us through the veil."

This statement seemed to create a general stirring among the elders. There was also the sound of swishing tails and snapping jaws as the dragons above moved in closer, sending swirls of snow dancing around the Council members.

Merlin shivered. The cold was becoming more intense.

"You wish to open the veil, but this is a dark path, Brittanicus," said an old man with a grey robe and grey beard.

"It cannot be avoided," replied Merlin's ancestor, while glaring at the speaker. "The dragon-spirits must return to our realm where they belong. The Great Dragon's sacrifice will not be in vain."

"Sacrifice?" mumbled Merlin, unsure if he had heard correctly.

"What you're asking is not in his nature," argued the grey-clad man, while glancing sideways at Merlin.

The High Lord of the Council did not seem happy with this statement. "He is a dragonlord and must do as we decide, Alastor," he burst out rather angrily.

"_What sacrifice_?" Merlin cried out, stepping forward in an attempt to catch the elders' attention.

It was the grey bearded man, Alastor, who replied. "To open a path through the veil, a blood sacrifice must be made. And there is but one dragon that is still alive to accomplish the deed. And you, being a dragonlord, have to command him to do it."

Merlin's heart skipped a beat. "Kilgharrah must die," he breathed out.

A silence fell on the assembly. Even the low flying dragons became quiet, almost sorrowful. Merlin glanced at his father, looking for some explanation, some flicker of hope, but he saw none.

"It must be done," said Merlin's ancestor. "If the dragon-spirits do not return, they will become cursed creatures, feeding off the flesh of living beings, and forever trapped into that darkness. They will be beyond anyone's power, even a dragonlord's. This is the only path."

"And what of the consequences?" said a voice next to Merlin.

The young wizard had not seen his father move in closer. They were now shoulder to shoulder and Merlin could almost feel the imposing presence. There was also an underlying tone of accusation in the deep voice.

"Has any of you given thought to what you are asking and _who_ you are asking it to?" asked the dragonlord forcefully.

"I agree with Balinor," said Alastor before anyone could reply. "We cannot overlook the fact that he is not just a dragonlord. His destiny goes beyond the will of this council."

"Oh be quiet, Alastor," cried out the elder, to which several others nodded in approval. "Merlin, son of Balinor, is a dragonlord and will be treated as such. You would do well to remember it if you want to remain in this council."

"The rule of the council is not the rule of one," cried out Alastor.

"That's enough!" said Merlin suddenly.

His voice did not even sound like his own. He felt so frustrated that his entire body was shaking. His state of aggravation was the only thing keeping him from succumbing to the cold. He could hardly feel his feet or his ankles now. There was ice on his hair and eyelashes. He could not afford this debate to go on forever.

"Is there any other way to open path through the veil?" he cried out at large, making a point of looking into the eyes of each of the elders.

They were all lowering their gazes.

"_Is there another way_?" he cried out again.

This time the one called Alastor spoke up. "That magic is lost. The secrets of how to walk between worlds has long been forgotten. That knowledge disappeared along with the wizards."

_Wizard_. He had been called that by King Lot. A bridge between words. A spirit in human form. Perhaps there was a small hope there. If only he had just a little more time…

A sudden whooshing of wings made him glance upwards. "What about you?" he cried out to the dragons. "Kilgharrah is your kin. The last of his kind. Do you accept that he must die?"

The biggest of all the dragons, a scary-looking beast with golden scales, swooped in around Merlin, making the snow swirl like a little storm. Its wings were circling him, almost like a cocoon, but Merlin tried to remain very still and to appear unafraid.

"Kilgharrah's fate is tied to yours," growled the impressive dragon. "But we all know that he is the last of his kind."

The answer burst into Merlin's mind like a cold gush of wind. "The dragon egg," he said under his breath. "But how…?"

His question was lost in a swirl of wind and snow as the golden dragon beat its enormous wings, thrusting its body upwards to regroup with the others.

Merlin's mind was buzzing. Kilgharrah's sacrifice. Could he do it? Was it in him to take a life, knowing that there was a new one waiting to be born? What if he couldn't? What if he wasn't strong enough? Would he look for the lost knowledge of the wizards? One way or the other, he was running out of time. He was frozen to his bones.

Without even realising it, he had started to walk back. He barely noticed his father staring at him worriedly.

"Merlin!" cried out a voice behind his back. It was the High Lord, his ancestor. "The Council has not concluded yet."

"It has for me," he replied defiantly and watching the elders from the corner of his eye.

"Kilgharrah must die," said his ancestor heatedly. "It is the Council's command and you will see it done."

"_You will see it done_?" he repeated, wheeling around to face the speaker. He could feel himself fuming. "I've never seen you in my life. I've always been alone. I never had any help. Except Kilgharrah. And now you're telling me to see him dead. So if you don't mind, I'll be deciding that one on my own, as I have always done."

"Merlin!" called out the elder again. "You will not go on any wizard's quest. You are a dragonlord and you will do as this council commands."

Merlin caught a glimmer of pride into his father's eyes, and that gave him even more courage to speak up.

"The way I see it," he continued, "I am the last dragonlord left alive. So you need me more than I need you." He glanced at his hand that held the green light of the crystal of Fyr. "I thank you for the crystal. Have a nice _death_."

Without any further ado, he turned his heels and walked away into the snow. He could hardly see the path through which they had come, but he didn't care.

"Merlin!" yelled back the High Lord. "You will not ignore this Council! You don't know what it is to be a dragonlord!"

"Oh be quiet, Brittanicus," snapped the man called Alastor. "He's right. He doesn't really need us."

Merlin couldn't help but smile at the comment, even if his face was frozen with cold. The bickering of a few elders did not interest him anymore. All that he wanted was to be warm again.

"I have to get out of here and fast," he muttered to his father. Balinor was following him closely and even holding his shoulder.

"We must get back to the bridge then," said his father resolutely.

They walked on for a short while. The snow was becoming dense and wet, as though it was melting. Before long, Merlin began to hear a rushing noise, like a waterfall.

"You took too much time," murmured his father. "You will have to jump."

"Is there really no other way?" whispered Merlin.

His father shook his long mane of dark hair. "Dragonlords and wizards were never on good terms. They did not share secrets. If the wizards knew a way, then no dragonlord can tell you about it. You will have to find it on your own."

His answer had an apologetic sound to it.

They were now standing on top of a waterfall that seemed to go down and down forever.

"I have to… _jump_?" Merlin burst out.

"Yes, and think about how much you want to live," replied his father as though it was the simplest thing in the world.

"Why did you say that you lied?" Merlin asked, not wanting to waste another minute.

"The Council had given me a task," said Balinor, his voice deeper than ever. "To stay alive. As long as there was a dragonlord alive, there was a chance that the dragons would live on. Going back to Ealdor would have been too dangerous, so the Council forbade it. Even dead your great-great-grandfather can be persuasive. But I know now that I am only a coward."

"No, you're not," said Merlin fervently.

"I could have just told them to go to hell like you did." There was the hint of a smile.

"I didn't…"

"Go now, Merlin."

Merlin could not help but grab his father's arm. "Thank you," he whispered.

"You must let me go, son."

Slowly, reluctantly, Merlin took a step back, but his foot did not touch the ground. It fell into emptiness. His other leg lost balance and soon his entire body was falling, falling into the rushing water.

Images of his life burst into his mind. Morgana surrounded by a shroud of white light. Arthur's smile. Gwaine's casual expression. Galahad's haggard appearance. He saw two boys and a little girl too, playing in a field. Who were these children?

He didn't have time to ponder on the question. Suddenly, he was no longer falling but swimming with what was left of his strength to try and reach the surface. He could hardly tell which way was up. Then his eyes caught the green light of the crystal still in his hand. He lifted it in front of his and it seemed to show him the way.

Soon he was lying on some rocky shore, coughing and sputtering, so cold that he could hardly move. His hand seemed frozen on the precious crystal. His eyes glanced at a green forest and tall mountains, and then he knew no more.

…..

_Author's note:_

_Sooooooo exited about the upcoming Season 5! I can hardly think straight! Hope I can find some way to watch it in Canada… (sobs)_

_Anyway, I don't think I'll be finished with this story when the new season starts, but the final battle is coming, you can be sure of it. Everything is in place the some exiting chapters with lots of action!_

_Thanks for reading and please drop a review!_

_HighEmpress_


	25. Chapter 24: Running out of Time

**Chapter 24: Running out of time**

Morgana rode as fast as she could in the hope of getting to Camelot before either Arthur or Merlin did. Her goal was simple: kill Morgause. Without her, the dragonlord LeNoir would be lost and confused. Leaderless, the rest of the thugs and mercenaries would pillage and then leave. Merlin will have a clear path to confront LeNoir without Morgause to interfere. And hopefully Arthur would take back the city without too much casualties.

Truly, she had kept the most difficult task to herself, and the less rewarding. She could have stayed with Arthur and fought by his side. Death on the battlefield did not frighten her. She had faced death before. But she did not crave such glory, not anymore. The path she had chosen was less selfish, and lonelier. If she succeeded, there would be no parade, no honour. What glory was there in cold-blooded murder?

But it didn't matter. She was doing it for Merlin, and nothing was more important. He was everything good in the world. She had seen the other side and it was dark and frightening. Her hands had blood on them. Merlin hadn't been tinted yet. He was the light to her darkness, and she was determined to keep it that way. Such would be her sacrifice.

As for her soul, the vision of her children gave her hope, maybe not for her salvation, but for a bit of happiness. This thought alone was enough to give her courage and speed.

By the beginning of the afternoon, dark and rainy clouds were filling the sky and she chose to wheel her horse on a more treacherous path. If the road wasn't too muddy, she would gain a few hours just by following the ravines through the Valley of the Fallen Kings. She would have preferred drier weather, but those were powers beyond her knowledge.

By the time she realised that she had made the wrong choice, it was too late to turn back. The path was even muddier than what she had expected, probably from the rain of the previous night. Her horse soon began to protest at every step. All that she could do now was to continue on foot. She sent the horse away, and regretted it almost straight away. The absence of sunlight made the woods creepier than she remembered them. And this was, after all, a cursed valley.

She began to listen intently for any sound out of the ordinary, suddenly aware of how helpless she was; a woman alone, ankle-deep in mud, wearing a noble's dress but with no guards or escort. It wasn't her first time in dark woods all on her own, but somehow this was different. Before, she had been in control. Now she felt like the prey, instead of the hunter. Her only weapon was magic, but all the spells that she knew were about chaos and destruction. Those were not her domain anymore. Yet how else could she defend herself against an attacker or a wild animal? Now what was that word that Merlin used when he needed a bit of light?

Holding out her hand, she whispered, "_Leoth_!" A tiny spark of light appeared in her hand.

Suddenly there was scurrying all around her, as though her spell had set off an alarm. And by the sound of metal, broken branches and tramping feet, these were not small creatures of the wood.

"Who goes there?" she cried out, holding out her light. "I mean you no harm! I merely need to use this path. I have urgent business in Camelot. You must let me pass!"

In the pale light, she could see many outlines coming closer. They were everywhere around her. Her boots were stuck in the mud. She was trapped.

"I have magic and I will use it!" she cried out.

The spark of light that she was holding suddenly became a ball of hot flames. She could feel of wave of magic rising inside her chest, threatening to burst out and consume everything around her. Using all her will, she closed her hand on the flames. It was hurting her to contain all of that darkness, but with a few calming breaths, she managed it.

When she opened her eyes again, it was to stare in the face of a strongly built, white-haired man with a fierce look in his eyes. He was so close that she could feel his breath on her forehead.

"Your witch's ways don't scare me. Grab her!"

The attack came from both sides; two other men that she had not seen. They whipped ropes around her. Very quickly, they tied her hands and placed a scarf over her mouth. They worked with knight-like efficiency, but they were only dressed like farmers.

"Who do you reckon she is, Kay?" asked one of her captors.

"Don't know. But a witch alone out here ought to have a purpose, don't she?"

"She most certainly does."

The voice made her heart sink.

A flash of a red cloak. Unruly brown hair. A careworn expression. _Sir Leon_.

Their eyes met briefly, but there was no sympathy in them, only cold determination.

"I'll take her," said the knight.

He grabbed the ropes and wheeled her ahead of him.

"Take her whatever you like," replied the man called Kay. "But Pendragon ought to know that a witch can play with his mind. He might be better off letting that sorcerer-friend of his handle her."

"I'll make sure to inform him," said Leon bluntly.

Morgana felt being pushed in the back. There was nothing she could do but to follow. To use her magic, unsteady as it was, might put Sir Leon's life in danger. What would Merlin think of her then?

"Come on, my Lady," Leon rushed her. "We don't want to keep King Arthur waiting. In his presence, I hope you will remember to _bow_!"

She trudged on as fast as she could. Arthur could not be here already, that much she knew. So it meant that she was being taken to whoever was in charge now. If she was lucky, they would just put her in a cave and she would be able to escape. But knowing how much pain she had caused in Camelot, her fate was likely to be much worst.

More red capes filled her sight as they approached an old ruin. It was the remains of an old castle, a place that she had visited with Uther on one of their outings. They were but a half-day's ride to Camelot.

Sir Leon's thrust her against a wall, face against the dirt.

"Keep her here!" she heard him yelling. "Don't let her talk! Don't let her move!"

For a short while, all that she could hear was her own panicked breathing and the sound of metal clanking on rocks.

"Hello, Morgana."

Now her panic was turning into dread. She knew that voice. _Gwen_.

Slowly, she turned around against the wall of rocks. The woman with whom she became face to face was very different from the one that she remembered. Gwen had been a quiet and humble servant; the woman before her now was a queen.

"I always knew that you would return," said Guinevere.

"_Please_," Morgana began to say. She could not talk with the cloth in her mouth, but she tried to say as much as she could with her eyes. _I'm sorry. I want to help you. Please let me go._

Gwen gestured to one of the guards. There was a moment of hesitation, but then she said, "I'll be all right," and the guard removed the scarf from Morgana's face.

But now that she was free to speak, Morgana found no words at all. What could she say? Who in Camelot had more reasons to hate her than Gwen?

Finally, she lowered her eyes and muttered a feeble, "My Lady."

"Yes, I am," said Gwen. There was such a sense of nobility about her that Morgana could do nothing but stare.

"The knights here are sworn to protect me," Gwen continued solemnly. "If you attempt anything against me, they will kill you."

"I know," Morgana replied quickly. "And I do not wish to harm you. "What I can tell you is that Arthur is coming."

Gwen's face seemed to brighten, though she tried to hide it.

"How would you know?"

"It's not easy to explain. He's leading an army. King Lot's men. Two thousand, a least."

Gwen was pacing from one wall to the other. Her forest-green velvet dress was making a swishing noise with every step.

"And Merlin?" she asked.

Morgana tried not to sound too worried, and tried not to blush.

"He's coming on a different road. He'll be alone. If he returns at all. He went to the Otherworld to find the power to defeat the other dragonlord."

To enunciate Merlin's goal so clearly seemed to make it more real and she could not help but to close her eyes momentarily and shiver.

"Give me one good reason to believe anything you say," said Gwen between gritted teeth.

"For years now I…" She stopped, no longer sure that a declaration of love would be enough to convince anyone. "I lost my memory. I didn't know who I was and what I had done and during that time I changed."

Gwen took a few seconds to consider the idea.

"And now?" she asked.

"Now I remember," Morgana confessed. "But I'm not the same person that I was."

"I can't see what could have triggered such a deep change," Gwen said bitterly.

"_Merlin_."

Morgana bit her lip, aware that her voice had only been a whisper. In front of her was one of the few people who knew how a person could change for love. Arthur had changed the rules for Gwen. He had challenged the court and the traditions so cherished by his father, not to mention the laws of the kingdom. And Guinevere had changed too, taking up a position that she had not been brought up for. It had to be completely frightening for her. Yet there she was, protecting her kingdom in the place of the man she loved.

Guinevere was eyeing her suspiciously. "What did you say?"

Morgana drew in a deep breath. "Neither Arthur nor Merlin will succeed if I don't fulfill my part of the plan. You must let me go. I have to _kill Morgause_."

Gwen had stepped closer. She was now peering intensely into her eyes.

"You would kill her?"

"For Merlin, yes."

"_Merlin_?" Gwen breathed out.

"It's my task," Morgana insisted. "I can't let him do this. It's not in his nature. My soul is not the same. It cannot be saved."

"Are you trying to save your soul, Morgana?" Gwen said slyly. "Or Merlin's?"

Morgana could feel the magic threatening to burst out of her again.

"I'd die for him!" she cried out.

The walls around both women gave a violent shudder. Sir Leon appeared round the corner, but Gwen waved him away. She did the same for the guards who had come closer.

"You know," Gwen began to say in a low voice, "When Merlin arrived in Camelot, I immediately thought that he would be good for you. He has such a good nature. I used to think that if he could make you laugh at yourself, you would be a better person. I just hope I'm right."

And with that last comment, she took out a small dagger from her belt and cut the bonds that were holding Morgana's hands.

Morgana was so stunned that she could hardly move.

"You had best hurry. They will not be happy that I let you go."

The glance that they exchanged next filled Morgana's heart with more gratefulness than she could take. She could feel pounding in her chest, but it wasn't an outburst of magic. It was just immense relief.

"I will not forget this," she whispered. "I'm sorry, Gwen. So sorry."

"Don't make me wrong about this," said Guinevere.

Then she extended her hand to show an opening in the wall.

Without any further words, Morgana rushed forward. She did not dare look back, in case she would see red capes following her. But Gwen, it seemed, had been true to her word, which did not really come as a surprise.

As she ran, the thought that hit Morgana more deeply was the fact that she had been surrounded all of her life by good people. _Arthur. Gwen. Merlin. Even Sir Leon on a better day._ How could she have missed it? How could she have been so blind?

And then she had met Morgause and everything had changed. What had once been a blessing had turned out to be her greatest pain.

And at that moment she knew what her tears were. All of her life she had cried without really knowing why.

Her tears were tiny drops of time wasted. Time spent without love. Time without Merlin.

…

**Author's note:**

**I'm trying to update faster, I promise. **

**To all of those who read, thanks.**

**To all of those who read AND review, I LOVE YOU! THANKS A LOT!**


	26. Chapter 25: Power of the Old and the New

**Chapter 25: Power of the Old and the New**

When Merlin's eyes came into focus again, he could hardly tell if he had been asleep or unconscious. All that he knew was that he was still dreadfully cold, lying face first on wet rocks and with water sweeping at his feet. In his clutched hand, there was a green gem, its light shining through his fingers, a pale reminder that all of it had not been a dream. So he had seen his father, really seen him, spoken to him, even received some form of praise. His father had been his guide, perhaps in more ways than one. But now Balinor was gone and Merlin was back in the world of the living with a hopeless task to accomplish.

Maybe it would have been better not to go to the Otherworld after all.

"I see that you have taken your time, Emrys."

The sudden voice made Merlin jerk his head upwards. The face that was starring at him was familiar, though he had seen it only once.

"Taliesin!" he cried out, while struggling to his feet.

He had meant the old sorcerer once in the Valley of Fallen Kings. Taliesin had taken him to the Crystal Cave where he had seen a vision of Morgana killing Uther. Gaius had also said that Taliesin had been dead for three hundred years.

"Am I still in the Otherworld?" asked Merlin, glancing at his surrounding.

All the snow was gone. A cold breeze was blowing in the trees. All around them he could see tall mountains. Behind him was a lake that he knew well: the Lake of Avalon.

"How…?"

"You are beginning to understand the voices of nature and of the elements," said Taliesin. "This lake holds great power. You have always known it. It is not by chance that you are here at this moment in time."

The old sorcerer smile briefly and Merlin knew that this was a rare thing to behold on the wrinkled face.

Sweeping his long grey and ragged cloak, Taliesin took a seat on a large rock nearby and gestured for Merlin to join him. The young wizard sat a little reluctantly, feeling the full weight of what he had been asked to do, as though someone had just placed a heavy piece of armour on his shoulders.

"You know what the dragonlords are asking of me," he said to the old sorcerer. It wasn't really a question. Why else would Taliesin be with him now, if not to give him advice?

Merlin was surprised to see the old man turn his eyes up in disdain. "They always ask too much, dragonlords. With them, there is always only one solution, one course of action. For centuries, they have refused to acknowledge our prophecy. That is why, I think, they see you as nothing more than a mean to an end, while in truth you are… _everything_."

Merlin suddenly felt like a huge weight had been dropped on his shoulders. "You mean… a wizard."

Taliesin stared at him with narrow eyes, as though he was trying to see something that wasn't there. "Maybe not a wizard. Maybe _the greatest wizard that every lived_."

Merlin almost choked at the comment. Then, recalling something a familiar statement, he asked, "Why does Kilgharrah call me a warlock then?"

Taliesin turned his eyes up again. "Dragons! Always living in the past! We _prefer_ the term wizard. Your friend Kilgharrah is thinking only of a time of war when wizards were also lords and warriors. We are hoping that the world of Albion will be one of peace."

"But to bring peace, I have to commit… _murder_," muttered Merlin. The word felt bitter in his mouth. "Is there no other way?" he asked the old Seer.

Taliesin's expression was a mixture of sadness and sympathy. "I'm afraid no. Those creatures cannot stay in this world. Already, they have turned to darkness. They must be made to cross the veil and return where they came from."

An image burst in Merlin's mind: Kilgharrah fighting him, refusing to be killed. Would he, a dragonlord, thrust the spear into the dragon's heart? Would he have the strength? _A dragon's heart is on its right side, not his left_, such had been his father's words just before his death. And then there had been those two lines, engraved on a wall next to a sword, sealing the fate of the cursed Aria's Cradle. _Here is the Last Home of the Dragonlords._ _There is no Hope for the World of Men._

Merlin tried to shake the idea out of his mind, but somehow it had found a way to stick, like an endless song repeating itself.

He bit his lip in an effort to focus on what needed to be done. "What about the ancient ways of the wizards?" he asked to Taliesin. "Can that be of any help at all?"

"I'm afraid those ways are beyond my knowledge," replied the grey-haired man. "I'm simply not old enough. However I will say this. You may be young in years, but your soul is not. It may be that the answer you seek is hiding within the layers of your past, somewhere deep."

Merlin considered the idea. "But how do I uncover it?" he asked, puzzled.

The other sorcerer merely shrugged. "How do I know? I am a novice compared to you. It may be a new power or a very old one. Speaking of a new power, I was meant to give you this."

Without further ago, or before Merlin could ask anymore questions, Taliesin rose to his feet and strode quickly towards the lake. For someone who was three hundred years old, he certainly could move through wet rocks and muddy grass faster than the young wizard. When Merlin caught up with him, the old sorcerer had stopped near a very large tree whose roots dug deep into the ground, reaching far into the lake like a supporting hand.

"Since the dragonlords gave you the Crystal of Fyr, we decided that you should have something of your wizard-half to accompany you."

Without so much as a hesitation, Taliesin thrust his hand deep inside the trunk of the tree, into a crack that Merlin could barely see. The old sorcerer's hand disappeared as well as most of his arm. Instinctively, Merlin laid the palm of his hand on the tree's bark, and immediately he felt a pulse, like a living skin. This tree was old. Very old. Merlin could feel it in his mind and in his bones. There was a connection there, like a soul, and it was alive and communicating. It wanted to help, to give something back to the world of Albion. Something that Merlin desperately needed. A glimmer of hope.

As soon as the other's emotion hit him, he tried to convey back a feeling of gratitude. The tree's trunk began to shudder. Its leaves were trembling. Even its roots were wincing. And then, Taliesin gave a sharp pull and his arm came out. The crack in the tree's barn opened wide and finally the old sorcerer's hand came out carrying a long wooden staff.

The old man handed the staff to Merlin with shaking limps, and then he sat back on the rocks, wiping seat off his brow.

Merlin considered the staff for a moment. It wasn't too long or too short. If he had been looking for a walking stick, he would have chosen exactly this height. It was the right color and shape too; a few knots here and there, but particular flourishing in the composition. By any regular standards, it was a regular fine piece of wood. Yet for someone with magic, to touch it was enough to know of its great power.

"That staff has seen many prophesies come true," whispered Taliesin. "Treat it carefully."

But Merlin wasn't really listening. He had just noticed a bigger knot, at the top of the staff. It was more than a knot: it was a hole. And it was big enough to hold the entire Crystal of Fyr.

"It seems as though it has been made for me," said Merlin, observing his new tool.

The crystal's glow had vanished the moment it had touched the wood. To feel the staff in his hand was almost the same as touching the tree trunk from which it came.

"You are ready," Taliesin said forcefully. "From this moment, I can no longer help you."

As he said this, the outline of the old sorcerer began to fade. His grey hair and cloak became as transparent as a ghost.

"Thank you," said Merlin. Then an afterthought hit him and he shouted, "Wait!" but it was too lake: the apparition of Taliesin was gone.

"Great. How am I supposed to get to Camelot now?" Merlin mumbled under his breath.

As though answering to his wish, the staff suddenly gave a pull. Merlin's fingers slipped off instantly, only to find that the staff was now flying right on top of his head.

"You must be joking," he breathed out.

He held out his hand, palm opened upwards, and the staff gently floated back to him.

_This is crazy_, thought Merlin. Yet the feeling that he was reading as his hands pressed against the wood could not be clearer.

"All right, staff," he said out loud. "We have a long way to go. I hope you know what you're doing because I definitely do not feel too sure about…"

He did not have the opportunity to finish his sentence. His breath was cut short by the sudden shock of being pulled high into the air, like tumbleweed in the wind. In less than a second, he was higher than the trees with only one hand hanging on the piece of wood. Yet he knew, somehow, that the staff wasn't going to let him fall. His work was too important. The fate of the world of Albion depended on it. Even if he did not exactly know how he was going to accomplish all those things, he would at the very least get to Camelot swiftly.

And then the real challenge would begin.

…..

_Author's comments:_

_I hope you found this chapter interesting. I needed to clarify why I've decided to call Merlin a _wizard_ instead of a warlock. In the real world, it's probably to avoid confusion with Harry Potter because of all the marketing stuff. But in the world of fanfiction, it fits my story plot, so apologies to BBC ONE._

_Now please don't protest yet about the staff: it's useful, I promise. _

_On another note, the first episode of season 5 is EPIC, though I'm very confused about the blue-being-alien-like-creature. What's up with that? I'm opened to theories because I've honestly got none. _

_More chapters coming soon._

_HighEmpress _


	27. Chapter 26: Of Monsters and Men

_**Author's note:**_

_**Here is a new chapter. The next one will come soon, I promise. Writing keeps my mind busy while I wait for the next **_Merlin_** episode.**_

_**Tell me what you thought of Season 5 so far. The big smile for me was Gwen taking charge. The big let down was the alien-creature, the Key. But that's just my opinion. Feel free to share!**_

_**Enjoy the chapter.**_

…**.. **

**Chapter 26: Of Monsters and Men**

Arthur knew that his army would meet resistance from Morgause's hired thugs before they even reached the city. If not the mercenaries, then the dragon shades would make a meal of them before the end of the night.

Instead, early in the evening, Arthur chose a field well-concealed by the hillside and ordered for the men to set up camp. The light was getting dim and he preferred to take on those dragons during the day when they would be less potent and the men would be more alert. Besides, the soldiers needed their rest. Tomorrow, they would face a great evil. Some of them would never see their homes again.

Arthur Pendragon hated war. More than that, he hated the night before a battle when his mind was always filled with doubts. And now he didn't even have Merlin to cheer him up.

"He will return, my Lord," said a voice behind Arthur's back, echoing the king's thoughts.

The young ruler did not even need to turn around to know the speaker. Galahad had been following him like a shadow ever since Merlin's departure.

"I know he will return," replied Arthur, wheeling his horse a little further away from the cluster of soldiers. "The question is: what will he be like when he returns. Such a quest can change a man."

Galahad brought his horse up to pace to ride alongside Arthur.

"Not Merlin," he said with a half-smile. "He's still very much the same as he was when I met him in Aria's Cradle. Whether it's Lord Merlin Brittanicus or Merlin the Manservant doesn't make much of a difference."

"Yes, but what about 'Merlin the Most Powerful Wizard that Ever Lived'? If that happens, how am I _ever_ going to be able to tease him?"

"My Lord?"

At least Galahad's bewildered expression gave Arthur some level of satisfaction. The knight from Aria's Cradle was obviously used to more protocol, especially surrounding the king. However, the men that Arthur would be leading into battle in just a couple of hours had not been bred for battle like Galahad had. Some of them – most of them – were simple folks who had come to honour a request made by King Lot. As such, and in Arthur's experience, these soldiers were more likely to follow a man equal to them than to follow a banner or a crown.

Thankfully, on this particular occasion, there was actually more than one person for the job.

"My Lord, for your security, I think we should stay closer to the men. Sir Gwaine will bring his report as soon as he returns from his patrol. There is no need for you to wait out here."

Arthur ignored the comment about his security and wheeled his horse deeper into the woods. Galahad followed close behind, muttering under his breath in protest. The knight wasn't likely to let the king out of his sight therefore Arthur had decided to include him in the plan instead.

"I'm hoping that Gwaine will bring us a little more than just his report," said Arthur when he was sure that they were out of earshot.

"Sire?" replied Galahad. The following words sounded more like grunting.

"Speak your mind," said Arthur.

Galahad hesitated. Then his sentence burst out as though he had meant to say these words for a while now. "How can I protect you if I don't know what's going on?"

The young king could not help but smirk. "I could have told you. But then, I don't think you would have believed me. Here we are."

Arthur stepped down from his horse at a cave's entrance. Galahad did the same. The sun had gone down and they were easily concealed in the semi-darkness of the evening.

It wasn't very long before they heard the sound of horse hooves coming towards them. Soon enough, they could see two riders approaching, threading carefully between the trees. One of them had shoulder-length bouncy hair. The other was…

Galahad immediately caught Arthur's arm in alarm. "What in the devil's name…?"

For Arthur, it was less alarming. Still, seeing another man bearing his traits was slightly disconcerting. Was this really what his hair looked like? And his chin? His chain mail seemed a little tight. Had he put on some weight? Why didn't anybody tell him these things? Merlin did, but that didn't count.

Gwaine was the first to catch up with them. He quickly stepped down, pulling his horse at a quick pace. The knight had a malicious grin from ear to ear.

"Galahad, my friend, you should see your face."

The older knight looked more puzzled than ever. "A twin brother?" he breathed out, glancing from one _Arthur_ to the other.

"Brother-in-law," said Arthur. "Sir Galahad, meet Sir Elyan."

Elyan immediately strode towards the knight and pulled out an orange stone from underneath his tunic. The large gem was glowing faintly.

"Obviously without this I'm much better looking," said Elyan with a smirk.

Galahad's expression changed from puzzlement to comprehension almost at once.

"Magic," he whispered. "Powerful magic. The illusion is perfect. Merlin's doing?"

"Of course," said Elyan. "But if I take it off, the magic ends. Where is Merlin? We have something important to show him."

The tone of the conversation immediately became gloomier. However, there was too little time to explain everything.

"He's on a quest," said Arthur. "He will be along, but for now we have to do without him."

Elyan nodded. "In that case, Gwen will fill you in. I have to warn you, that bit of magic that Merlin did, opening up the ground all around the city walls, it has turned out to be a proper moat. Camelot will need a drawbridge, Sire."

Arthur could recall many debates on the issue. "Well, Sir Leon will be happy," he snorted.

But Galahad did not seem concerned by the drawbridge at all. "You're swapping places?" he almost cried out, glancing from Arthur to Elyan. "You cannot be serious."

"Yes, and you're coming with me," said Arthur. When he saw that Galahad did not seem convinced that this was a good plan, he continued to explain. "Elyan has my trust. He can lead the men. Gwaine will tell him what he needs to know. In the meantime, you and I are going to get ahead of everybody and try to sneak into Camelot, take it back from inside with my knights."

Galahad's face seemed to almost grow pale, which only caused Elyan to smile widely.

"If you stay around long enough, you'll get used to this way of doing things," the knight said encouragingly before mounting Arthur's horse.

Gwaine seemed in the same type of mood. "Cheer up, Galahad. You were in Aria's Cradle. I'm sure you've seen worst."

"Only when Merlin was in charge," replied the older knight with pursed lips.

"How did the illusion go?" asked Arthur as Elyan was leading his horse away from them.

"Not everyone is easily fooled, Sire," replied Elyan. "Especially not the Knights of Camelot."

A bubble of pride swelled up in Arthur's chest. Somehow, he couldn't wait to tell Merlin about this.

Elyan and Gwaine were soon out of sight. Arthur and Galahad had only a short way to go and thankfully they were undisturbed. When they met the first guards near the ruins, the young king was recognised at once. Only the presence of Galahad seemed to raise any suspicions. Arthur merely introduced him as an ally and friend of Camelot and they were allowed to move on.

The ruins of the Ancient Kings had become a hideout for the court, the knights and the queen. They had used this place before. Arthur particularly liked the Round Table. He saw it as soon as he walked in, and also he saw the many occupants working feverishly around it. But the sight that he was happier to behold was the figure that came striding towards him with a look of relief on her face.

"_Guinevere_," Arthur breathed out as she came to greet him.

The tone of his voice stopped her at once. Then the expression on her face became one of complete understanding.

"You're back," she said softly. Then she kissed him passionately.

It took Arthur a few moments after that kiss to notice the familiar people who were coming closer to meet him. Sir Leon and Gaius were anxiously waiting nearby. Arthur could read the panic on the old physician's face: Merlin was not with them. But that explanation had to wait.

Arthur introduced Galahad briefly, but he immediately felt the urgency around him. He had barely time to finish his sentence that Gwen was taking him away from the crowded chamber and into the narrow passages. Sir Leon led them with a torch. Arthur tried to remember how many turns they took, but it was almost impossible.

"Do not worry, Sire," murmured Gaius. "We had plenty of time to explore these passages. I thought that Merlin would be with you."

"Not now, Gaius," murmured Gwen right away. "We're almost there."

Soon after she had said this, the passage they were in opened into a larger chamber, deeper, carved in the rock, but large enough to hold at least a dozen people. There were already four or five torches there. Arthur could easily tell that this place had been occupied in the last few days. There was a bed of fur pelts in one corner. A huge stone table held a few goblets and plates, as well as parchment and quills. There was also a pile of velvety and silky dresses lined against the wall.

"We call this the queen's chambers," Leon explained.

However, it did not seem as though the knight was stopping there. Leon took a second torch and handed it to Galahad, before moving on to another tunnel.

"You can basically go anywhere through these tunnels," said Gaius. "Even back to Camelot."

The passage was narrow and the walls almost seemed like they were shaking. Arthur really wasn't feeling great about this journey, and mostly he didn't like the fact that Gwen seemed to know the way. Obviously, she had been here before. Had she been in danger? Arthur tried to see her expression, but it was just too dark. After a short while, they began to see a faint orange glow up ahead. It was casting dancing shadows on the walls.

Sir Leon reached the orange light first. "I think it's safe," he called to the others.

Arthur heard the beast before he even saw him: the low, rumbling roar of a fire-breathing monster.

"_Kilgharrah_," whispered Arthur.

There could be no mistake that this was Merlin's dragon. The color of the scales, the size of the head, the powerful jaw: these were the traits of the Great Dragon. The dragon-shades were more ghost-like and they seemed almost made of black vapour. But the beast before them was flesh and blood, and it was _snoring_.

"He's… _sleeping_," murmured Galahad, echoing Arthur's thought.

"I couldn't sleep because of the snoring," Gwen began to explain. She had swept to Arthur's side and had slipped her hand in his. "We searched the tunnels to find the source of the noise and found this cave with burnt branches and blackened rocks all around." She pointed at a large opening on the far side of the cave. "We waited and sure enough, the following night, the Great Dragon appeared. He just curled up like this and slept, and on the morning he took off. And we began to think that if we could keep him here, it would make Merlin's job easier."

Sill holding Arthur's hand, she made her way around the sleeping dragon's head until they could see his legs and the tip of his tail, all curled up in a mess of scaly limbs. And then, in the center of it all, Arthur saw it.

"The dragon egg," he whispered.

It was the same bluish-white that Arthur remembered, almost crystal-like, and the size of a man's kull.

He couldn't help but marvel at Gwen's bold move. He was just getting more and more in love with her by the second. "The dragon egg is giving him a reason to come back here," he said to Gwen. "It's brilliant. But why is he still sleeping? And why are we walking around like he's not a fire-breathing, men-eating monster?"

A noise behind him made Arthur turn around. Gaius was joining them. He was less graceful than Gwen on the broken rocks and burnt branches and he kept loosing his balance.

"To answer your first question, Sire, I gave him a powerful sleeping draught," said the old physician when he had finally found a sure footing. "Powerful enough to knock down a dozen grown men. I placed the poultice directly in the dragon's nose."

Now he was really impressed. "Well done, Gaius," said the king.

But the old man kept peering at him with searching eyes. "On the second topic, I'm not sure Merlin would agree with you. Dragons are not monsters. Those dragon-shades are wild and destructive, nothing like the noble race of Great Dragons used to be. I'm sure Merlin would have told you that?"

"He did," replied Arthur, feeling a little sheepish. "Merlin has an understanding of dragons that I can never have. It's making me realise how powerful he actually is, and also how terribly lonely he must be. But don't tell him I said that."

He looked over at Gwen for support but he saw that her eyes were fixed on the sleeping dragon and the dragon egg.

"Even with the egg here, he kept leaving," she murmured. "Why would Kilgharrah leave his child, the last of his kind? LeNoir's power over him must be very powerful indeed. I'm just hoping that there is something that Merlin can do. The sooner the better."

She began to walk back towards Galahad and Leon who were standing at the entrance of the cave.

"Why?" said Arthur, following her.

It was Leon who replied. "Because once LeNoir realises that the Great Dragon is no longer answering, he'll send his men to seek him out."

"Which will lead them here," Arthur concluded for him.

"Exactly," continued Leon. "At least we managed to map out most of the passageways. It will make escaping easier."

"Good thinking," said Arthur, placing his hand on his knight's shoulder in a brotherly gesture.

"It wasn't easy to do," Leon explained. "We kept walking into the Great Dragon. I'm surprised that Morgana didn't run into him on her way out of here."

The name made Arthur freeze in shock. "Morgana?"

The exchange of nervous glances between Gwen, Leon and Gaius was unmistakable.

"Leon caught her," Gwen said softly. "But I let her go. She said that she was going to kill Morgause."

Arthur distinctively saw Leon turn his eyes away, visibly disagreeing. Gaius seemed equally distraught.

"That can't be something that Merlin asked her to do. It's not like him," said Galahad pointedly.

"Merlin and Morgana," Gwen breathed out. "Are they in love?" She turned to Arthur with pleading eyes. "Is it possible?"

All that he could do was nod. His first reaction at Morgana's leaving the Refuge had been to think that she had betrayed them. Now he wasn't so sure. Perhaps she had chosen another path. Whatever it was, he couldn't worry about it. He had to stick to the plan. He couldn't waste anymore time.

They walked back through the tunnels in silence. Arthur had much to tell to his queen. He wanted to relate to her every word of their many encounters at King Lot's Refuge. He wanted to share his worries about Merlin's present quest and his infatuation with Morgana. He couldn't really call it love; that was just too strange.

But the questioning had to wait. He had to put his mind on the task at hand.

When they reached the main chamber, Arthur gathered his most trusted knights at the Round Table.

"Now, Sir Leon, we will take a closer look at your maps."


	28. Chapter 27: The Witch and the Dragonlord

**Chapter 27: The Witch and the Dragonlord**

It was well into the evening when Morgana was finally let into the castle.

She had presented herself to the mercenaries who were guarding the outer wall. A small demonstration of her magic had been enough to convince them of her identity. She had demanded to be taken to Morgause at once, which had turned out to be more difficult than she had anticipated. It was not simply complicated because of the mindless brutes that were escorting her, but it was physically challenging because of the depth and width of the moat that was now surrounding Camelot. As a result of it, it was now almost possible to get into the city except by climbing a wall. Morgause's thugs had created a few entry points with wooden ladders and ropes. However, they had clearly not imagined giving access to a lady.

But Morgana wasn't going to wait around for them to build a more decent ladder. She was, after all, a powerful witch.

Taking the lead, she selected a strong rope and, using her magic, she made the rope rise above the wall. Then she wrapped her foot around the rope and instantly she was lifted into the air as though she weighted next to nothing.

The looks of awe that she received were priceless. At that moment, she knew that none would stand in her way. She, on the other hand, had to remain like stone. She could not let her emotions known to anybody inside the castle. She couldn't let anyone know how much that she was frightened. She had seen Morgause's wrath before, and she dared not think about what would happen if she failed to kill her.

The many corridors of the castle were dark and quiet. All that she could perceive was the occasional shuffling of feet or the glow of torchlight. The guards took her to a chamber that she knew well: the king's dining hall.

As soon as the doors swing opened, she knew that her greatest trial had begun.

"Sister!" cried out Morgause.

Before Morgana could even take a good look at her, Morgause had wrapped her arms around her shoulders. She was caressing her hair, stroking her cheeks, kissing her brow.

"I was loosing hope that I would ever see you again," the witch whispered in Morgana's ear. "What happened?"

Morgana had well prepared herself for that question. Her made-up story was ready. After all, lying was something that she was really good at. Morgause took her to the table, offered her bread and fruits, and sat in silence as Morgana related to her the main events of the last few years. She names King Lot has her captor. She mentioned being sick and having some difficulty remembering who she was. But a brief sight of Arthur Pendragon had brought everything back to her in a flash. The thought of seeing her sister again had given her strength to escape.

"And now we are whole again, sister," Morgause whispered softly. She reached out to hold Morgana's hand. She was stroking it as though it was precious. "I wish I could have been there to heal you, but I could not even feel your presence. Couldn't you have used any of the magic I showed you?"

"I couldn't. I couldn't even remember my name," she said shakily. "Someone had taken it from me. It was the sorcerer. _Merlin_."

The way she said his name, with hatred and disdain, was like knives to her heart. But she had to do it. The one thing that she had ever shared with Morgause was revenge. She was only making sure that this bond still existed.

"_Merlin_!" snarled Morgause. "That pesky idiot! Do not fear, sister. Now we have an ally unmatched in strength and magic. He will destroy Merlin as certain as Camelot will fall for good. With you here, we finally have a claim on the throne. We can make this occupation absolute and our revenge will be complete."

Morgana tried not to faint, but to fill her words with hatred instead. "My revenge now demands not only Arthur's but Merlin's head as well."

Morgause smiled at her warmly, squeezing her hand even more firmly. "I know, sister. You will hurt him as much as he's hurt you. You have my word."

"Thank you, sister," murmured Morgana.

Morgause's expression now became concerned. "You look tired, sister."

Morgana shifted on her seat. To win back Morgause's trust, she had to make her betrayal complete. "It's not all," Morgana whispered breathlessly. "Arthur is coming. He has an army of two thousand men. He's already here. The attack will come at dawn. You have to get ready. You have to…"

"Sister, calm yourself!" cut in Morgause. "We _know_. Do not worry. We are well protected here. Camelot is ours and no one – not _Arthur Pendragon_ – will take back this city."

Morgana pursed her lips, swallowing an outburst of shock. "Of course," she murmured, shaking her curls.

"Do not trouble yourself anymore, sister," said Morgause, smiling affectionately. "I will introduce you to him, and then I will let you rest. Would you like that?"

They set off towards the throne room at once; Morgana gliding in her blue velvet dress and Morgause, clad in chain mail, trotting in front of her like a personal guard. The change in Morgause's tone as she began to talk about LeNoir was unsettling. She explained how she used the map to go to the Otherworld and how the spirits gave her a mighty gift. LeNoir was everything that she hoped for and more. He was a man not to be reckoned with, a man who knew how to be feared and respected by all of those around him. But most of all, he was a man who shared their hatred of Uther Pendragon.

"But don't worry, sister," Morgause said softly when they had reached the double doors. "I'm certain that he will love you, as I love…"

She caught herself and stopped her sentence at once. Morgana tried not to appear too stunned. However, there was no more time to think because Morgause had swung the doors open.

Morgana wasn't prepared to see someone else than Uther sit on the throne. The sight made her hold her breath. The man who had once been called Julius Borden was sitting casually on the impressive chair, with one leg swinging over the armrest. When he looked up and saw the two women walking towards him, he straightened up and stared at Morgana with unnatural black eyes. She knew at once that he was trying to read her. Her instinct was to slow down her pace, but she kept going, her head held high.

"What is this, my love?" said LeNoir with a deep and cavernous voice.

_My love_. She definitely had not anticipated _that_.

The soft words did not seem unfamiliar to Morgause. As soon as she heard them, her face lit up and she was quick to get to her lover's side.

As Morgana got closer, LeNoir's snarl turned into a devilish smile. "I should say 'who is this?' but I think the answer to that is obvious. Welcome to Camelot, Lady Morgana."

Morgana nodded curtly. She could feel LeNoir's glare like a chilly breeze on her skin. He stepped forward and began to walk around her, appraising her. Morgana caught a fleeting glance of Morgause: she had a distraught look on her face. Was it jealousy? A tiny drop in her level of self-confidence?

"You live up to your reputation, Lady Morgana," said LeNoir, smiling slyly. With the back of his hand he brushed a lock of her hair away from her shoulder. Then his face changed completely as he turned back to Morgause. "You were right, my love, she is special," he said softly.

He walked back to Morgause's side and placed a kiss on her hand. Morgana tried not to stare or blush at the sight of the two lovers. She couldn't let this new information change her plan. She couldn't loose her focus. Morgause had to die.

"You _are_ special, sister," whispered Morgause. She stepped forward to squeeze Morgana's arm affectionately. "And tomorrow, we will make you queen. What's this?"

She flipped Morgana's wrist for a closer look. Sure enough, under the fabric of the blue dress, there was a fine line of blood. It was probably just a scratch from riding in the woods, but Morgana decided to use it to her advantage.

"It's nothing," she said. "Just a reminder of what I went through to escape. I want to keep it."

"Of course," Morgause said sympathetically.

"Maybe I'll just get an ointment for the sting. I'm sure I can find something in the physician's chambers."

Morgause offered to go with her, but Morgana refused instantly, saying that she needed to rest. She also said a few words about finding something more suitable to wear. Something fit for a queen.

After that, they said 'good night' and Morgana left the throne room holding a small flame in the palm of her hand as only light. She made sure that the two lovers saw her conjure the spell, in case they had any doubt about her identity.

The dark corridors of the citadel seemed more crowded to her in the middle of the night. The walls were full of dancing shadows as she passed from one empty chamber to the next. The unworldly shapes of the dragon-shades outside of the windows gave her the constant impression that she was being observed. And maybe she was. She did not know yet the extent of LeNoir's powers. He could control the dragons, yes, but did he have other magical abilities? Until her task was done, she couldn't let him get close to her. She couldn't give away her intentions.

As she pushed open the doors to Gaius' chambers, her thoughts immediately went to Merlin. The smell of herbs and parchment brought a strong sense of longing to her heart. With a quick word, the fireplace burst into flames, casting more light on the surroundings. She spotted the small doorway at the back of the chamber: Merlin's room. It was such a tiny room by her standards, yet it was a perfect reflection of everything Merlin was. The walls were lined with books. Rolls of parchment were piled up on a writing desk and on the floor. The bed was only roughly done. A brown jacket, blue shirt and red scarf were hanging on the back of a chair. She could almost see him climbing to take a peek out of the small window.

Without thinking, she allowed her fingers to run along the jacket, shirt and scarf. Then, taking the piece of red cloth, she wrapped it around her wrist like a bandage. The cut didn't really need it, but the idea of having something belonging to Merlin gave her strength.

With this newfound purpose, she returned into the physician's chambers to look for a particular potion. She knew that it was transparent like water, tasteless and odourless, and very deadly. She had tasted this poison before, and by Merlin's hand. Yet she loved him so much now that she couldn't blame him or even feel any bitterness.

It was the same with Morgause. Morgana did not really hate her. She only felt a sort of pity and an overwhelming sadness. Morgause would never really know love or joy. She had spent all of her life planning her revenge. LeNoir was not different. His hatred of the Pendragons was all that mattered. Whatever infatuation existed between them could only be fuelled by their common loathing for the same enemy. There was nothing else in the world for them.

After only a few minutes of search, Morgana found what she was looking for. She closed her hand on the small phial, the one with a skull on it, and she slipped it under the folds of her dress. A few drops in a glass of wine. It would be quick and without too much pain.

After all, Morgause didn't have to suffer.

Her death would come at dawn.


	29. Chapter 28: Whispers and Rising Sun

**Author's note:**

**Sorry for the long wait between updates. Just working really hard. By the way, MERLIN SEASON 5 is awesome!**

**Enjoy this chapter.**

**Please drop a review!**

…**..**

**Chapter 28: Whispers and Rising Sun**

"Remind me why this was a good idea," muttered Arthur under his breath.

"I never said it was a good idea, Sire," replied Galahad.

Arthur's hand slipped from the wall and he almost fell into the dark brown water of the tunnel. Fortunately, the knight from Aria's Cradle was following close behind and caught the king's arm just in time. Arthur was quite certain that this water was not good to drink.

They were all submerged shoulder-deep into the old passageways under the citadel. Those corridors had once been perfectly dried, but now the tunnels were all filled with rainwater from the last few days. This disaster was of course a courtesy of Merlin and his brilliant idea to create a deep trench around the city. The result was a deep moat that now made the citadel nearly impregnable. Arthur Pendragon had been certain that he knew those passages like the back of his hand, but all of the water and dripping mud was making even him loose his bearings. Thankfully, he wasn't leading the group.

"It won't be long before we reach the donjons, Sire," said Leon, his voice echoing from up ahead. "Once we've braced the walls with stones and beams, and added a few iron gates, Camelot will be a real fortress. No one will dare enter it from below."

"Isn't that what we're doing?" grunted Galahad.

"Be quiet!" said Arthur. "If we're discovered here, we're dead."

"I would have preferred to wait for Merlin," Galahad mumbled between gritted teeth.

Arthur ignored him. The truth was that they could not wait for him because they did not know that he would return. As far as Arthur knew, going to the Otherworld was a one-way trip.

The young king rapidly shook his head, not wanting his thoughts to dwell in this direction. He had more pressing matters to think about, such as how he was going to lead a battle in these wet clothes.

Leon suddenly came to a halt and began to climb on the wall on a few metal bars. It was very dark but Arthur could see a faint yellow light coming through the cracks of a small wooden door above their heads.

"Where are we now?" Galahad asked. He was less and less bothering about hiding the irritation in his voice.

"Lower stores. Near the vaults," answered Arthur.

Following Leon's lead, they climbed clumsily through the small opening. The weight of their chain mails did not make the task easy and Arthur had to pause a few times to breathe. Galahad did not even complain when Leon offered his hand to pull him up. As they both sat on the stone floor of the otherwise empty chamber, Arthur could not help but notice how old Galahad looked compared to the other knights. Yet there was a determination in him that was quite admirable. There could only be one explanation for it, of course: Merlin. Galahad's loyalty and love for him seemed to have no limit.

"Don't tell me we're locked in here," growled Galahad.

He was glancing at Leon who was listening intently near the wooden door.

"That's not a problem," said the knight. He then turned to Arthur, a concerned expression on his face. "We took too long to get through that door. Even if I signal to the others now, we'll never make it before sunrise."

Arthur's eyes immediately scanned the room for something they could use. They were in the lower stores, surrounded by old rusting equipment. Even before the passages had been filled with water, this place had been too humid to store food. He could see piles of old rags and ropes, worn out furniture, broken armour, bent poles, a rusty cart…

He caught his breath.

"Yes, I see it," whispered Leon.

Together they lifted the cart and freed it from the rest of the rubble.

Galahad was looking a little surprised. "You want to make a ladder, is that it?"

"Yes," said Leon. He was now pulling out all the good rope he could find.

"So does that mean that the plan…?"

"Remains unchanged," cut in Arthur. "Leon will stay here. You and I are going to take out LeNoir and Morgause. If you're up to it, that is. You're not one of my knights, so this is not a command. The decision is yours, Galahad."

He eyed the older knight patiently, watching the understanding and resolution form on his worn out face.

"If I refused, would you still go on?"

Arthur gave him his best grin. "Of course! Didn't Merlin tell you? This is how we do things in Camelot."

The young king turned to the door, ignoring Galahad's irritated expression. The door was locked probably from the outside to prevent intruders. However, being a king who had a very clever wife, he had the keys of all the stores and vaults. Somehow, being in possession of the keys made him feel like this was still his castle.

"So we're just going to work our way up?" Galahad said in a low voice.

"Don't worry," said Arthur. "I know all the little nooks and corners. I grew up here, you know."

"Merlin said you were arrogant. I'm just surprised that you lived this long."

Arthur did not have time to reply. The door was unlocked and they did not exactly know how many people were out there. Thankfully, the dark corridor seemed empty. Arthur closed the door behind him and slipped the key under it so that Leon could in turn get out.

There were no silhouettes on the walls or distant voices of any kind. Perhaps Morgause did not have enough thugs to patrol al the levels. If that was the case, it would play to their advantage.

With his sword firmly in hand, Arthur led the way with Galahad close on his tail. Just before reaching the stairs, they met a guard that the two men quickly took out. Then they hid the body in a broom cupboard.

"One down, only about two hundred left," murmured Galahad.

"You're even worst than Merlin!" breathed the king.

Arthur kicked a boot that was obstructing the cupboard door, and then he shut it with a creak and a clang. Galahad was right of course, which was really starting to get on Arthur's nerves.

The old was shaking his head, looking at the long staircase before them. "Why do you expect LeNoir to be in the throne room? He could be in a bedroom and there are hundreds of them."

"What else do you suggest?"

Galahad seemed to be thinking. "If we can't find him, we could let _him_ find _us_."

The young king was fuming. "We haven't even started to look…! WATCH OUT!"

Arthur saw the three guards jump at Galahad from a shadowy corner around the stairs, the same corner where Merlin had more than once fallen asleep, waiting for Arthur to come out of the council chamber. The thugs came down hard with swords and daggers, but Galahad was quick to retaliate. He planted his feet, giving blow after blow with speed and precision. One of the thugs quickly turned his attention towards Arthur. The young king took out his opponent by making him trip and fall on the stairs. He then delivered the final blow, knocking his attacker on the head with the hilt of his sword.

"Not bad," said Galahad.

"Likewise," said Arthur.

The next few minutes were spent trying to fit another three men into the cupboard. But they had no choice; they could not allow the alarm to be raised.

They climbed the stairs as quickly as they could, making their way closer to the throne room. Near another narrower stairway, they met more guards, but this time they spotted the enemy first. Galahad did not waste any time in taking them out, going for the throat first so as to prevent any shouting. Once more, they hid the bodies inside a cupboard.

"Lots of storage, this castle," whispered Galahad.

"We're going to run out of cupboard space," replied Arthur in a low voice. "Come on, I know a shortcut."

At the end of an endless corridor, Arthur took out his keys to open a small service door. Inside it, there was a narrow passageway with only a torch on the wall. The hidden passage took them across many chambers, a little further away than the throne room.

"These are for the king's protection, but I never use them," said Arthur. "I prefer to face my enemy up front. So I guess you can say that Merlin is right: I _am_ arrogant."

"I'll make sure to tell him that," whispered Galahad.

Suddenly, a moving shadow caught Arthur's eyes. There was also the sound of a creaking door and footsteps.

Galahad caught Arthur's arm and quickly pulled him into a dark corner. The newcomer was coming towards them with a confident pace. Arthur recognised him right away. _LeNoir_.

It was the opportunity that Arthur had been waiting for. Silently, he and Galahad began the delicate task of following LeNoir without being discovered. The dragonlord seemed to be in no doubt about where he was going. He was walking fast and with a purpose. At some point, Arthur thought that they had lost him, but then they heard footsteps on the stairs.

Arthur knew exactly where LeNoir was going.

Galahad was staring at Arthur inquiringly. The young king pointed at the sign on the stairs: The King's Physician. The older knight seemed to understand at once. He placed himself opposite Arthur near the doorway. Both of them had their swords in hand. And then…

WHAM!

At the same time that Arthur had jumped, the door had slammed right into his face. He felt his nose crack and black spots obscuring his vision. He was loosing balance. He was going to fall on the stairs…

Then he was pushed forward. Two strong hands had grabbed his shoulders and shoved him unto the stone floor. Arthur rolled and crashed his back into a stool. The next moment, he saw a pair of feet rush pass him and into the chamber. Sounds of crashing swords filled his ears. His vision was slowly returning, but he could taste the blood into his mouth.

Galahad and LeNoir were fighting. Their swords were slashing through the air at a speed that Arthur had rarely seen. LeNoir was light on his feet, but the older knight knew many more moves. With each blow, Galahad was making LeNoir back away into a piece of furniture, or step into some broken glass, or trip over a pile of books.

Arthur gathered his sword with some difficulty and charged as well. He took a few swings at LeNoir, but he fell back right away, his head swimming.

Galahad's attacks slowed down just by a tiny bit and LeNoir took the opportunity right away.

"_Dragons_!" he yelled, using the deep and powerful dragonlord's voice.

CRACK! Galahad had flung a jug at LeNoir's head. It hit on the forehead, knocking the dragonlord off balance.

"Don't let him speak!" shouted Galahad.

Arthur swung his sword at once, ignoring his throbbing nose. He knew that his aim was clumsy and his footing unsteady, but there were no other options: they had to take out LeNoir now. They couldn't let him call reinforcements. Even though his head felt like it was about to explode, Arthur kept advancing, using the surroundings to his advantage. LeNoir's foot hit a bucket and the dragonlord almost fell on his back. But then, he caught the side of a table and tried to use the voice again. Taking a broomstick with his free hand, Arthur whacked the dragonlord on the neck, causing to cough and sputter.

_This might be my only chance_, though Arthur. Dropping the sword, he spun on his feet and grabbed the other end of the broomstick. He then locked the broomstick around LeNoir's neck.

"Hold him, my Lord!" cried out Galahad.

But LeNoir was strong and Arthur could only hold him as much as the broomstick didn't break.

"What are you doing?" he yelled.

He could barely see the older knight through the dim light and the cloud of dust.

And then, he heard Galahad's voice loud and clear.

"_Swefe nu!" _

It was as though LeNoir's body had suddenly become a dead weight. The struggling stopped and he fell limp against the broomstick. Caught by surprise, Arthur almost dropped him, but he didn't want to let go too soon so he lowered him to the ground. LeNoir's eyes were shut but he was definitely still breathing.

Arthur's eyes darted towards Galahad. "What the hell was that?"

"A sleeping spell," said the knight, shaking some dust from his brown and grey hair.

"You have magic!" let out Arthur.

A sudden sound made him gasp. LeNoir was actually snoring.

"It's not a problem, is it?" Galahad said matter-of-factly. "Your greatest advisor is a sorcerer, is he not? Or maybe you've changed your mind about Merlin?"

Arthur suddenly felt very awkward. "Of course I haven't," he breathed out. "But this will take some getting used to."

Galahad's expression was a bit concerned as he began to bind LeNoir's legs and arms with a strong rope, and cover his mouth with a cloth. "It's just a few spells, and they don't always work. He might wake up soon, or he might sleep for a week. I honestly don't know. And I'm afraid I won't be able to fix your nose."

Arthur had grabbed a cloth from one of the tables and it was now filled with sticky wet blood.

"I don't think it's broken," he grunted. "It'll just take a few minutes…"

"Arthur," Galahad murmured all of a sudden. He pointed at the small window: "_The sun._"

Pale morning rays were filtering through the opening. In a few moments, Elyan would send forth the army. The battle to reclaim Camelot was about to begin.

Arthur held his breath. His chest felt tight. He knew that feeling. It was the last moment of anguish before a fight.

"The sun is rising."


	30. Chapter 29: Shivers and Doubts

**Author's note:**

**I'd like to dedicate this chapter to Elyan. If you've seen Saturday's episode of Merlin (Season 5), then you understand what I mean. **

**As usual, thanks for reading… and please review.**

…**..**

**Chapter 29: Shivers and Doubts**

Gwaine walked nonchalantly among the soldiers, making his way towards the top of the hill where he knew that Elyan – still disguised as Arthur – was waiting. Just a few hours ago, the men had been restless, speaking loudly and swinging their weapons around as a cure against the fatigue and the cold. Now, when the battle was just minutes away, the atmosphere was tense and quiet, like a bubble ready to burst.

Gwaine spotted a familiar face. It was the innkeeper Kay, the one whose son Merlin had saved. Kay's mane of long white hair was tied behind his back and his shoulders were covered with chain mail and armour. He was a head taller than everybody else, more muscular than many of the younger soldiers, and with a long sword in his hand he looked positively fierce.

They had encountered Kay while crossing his village on the way to Camelot and he had been the one to suggest this place for the encampment.

"Gwaine! Old chap! When are we bringing down the witch? Those dragons are really starting to get on my nerves!"

Kay clasped him in the back, grabbing Gwaine by the cloak as he did and stirring the knight in another direction, away from any potential eavesdropping.

"Still no news of the wizard?" murmured the innkeeper to Gwaine's ear.

"No," replied Gwaine in the same low voice. "That question is still on every lip, I gather."

Kay nodded gravely. "You can't blame these youngsters. King Lot told them the wizard would be on their side, and that gave them a cause to take up arms. Now they're going to face this with no wizard in sight."

His eyes shot upwards towards the city above which black shadows could be seen flying in circles like birds of prey.

"The men have to trust Arthur," Gwaine said with as much conviction as he could. "He's a warrior. He knows what he's doing. Above all, he's a man of honour who will die for what he believes in."

Kay's frown seemed to lessen a bit. "I hope you're right. I'm about to put up the hell of a fight for this king of yours."

Gwaine smiled. His instincts had been right about Kay; he would make an excellent knight. If they both lived through it, he would make a formal request to Arthur. He didn't really know how that worked, but Merlin would know. Merlin knew _everything_.

The silence was suddenly broken by loud roars coming from up above. It wasn't close enough to be alarming, but it was powerful enough to give the men shivers and doubts.

"All the same," said Kay, still staring at the sky, "I would prefer to ride with the wizard by our side."

"Merlin will be there," Gwaine quickly replied. "I don't know how, but he will."

Gwaine left Kay and made his way back to Elyan, shaking hands and giving words of encouragements as he walked.

He hated being in doubt, and most of all he hated to have to conceal it. But what else could he do? These men were about to face a terrible foe. The odds were not in their favour. How can anyone expect a fair fight when dragons were involved? Their armour was thick and their wings as sharp as blades. Yet these men had answered King Lot's summon. A promised had been made. They would have a weapon like no other: a wizard.

But where was the wizard now?

The answer to that brought only dread to Gwaine's heart. Where was Merlin indeed? Would his quest bring him back here in time? There was no answer to this question, only dark thoughts.

"How are the men?" Elyan asked as soon as he saw him.

Elyan – disguised as Arthur through an illusion charm – was standing on top of the hill overlooking Camelot. He was trying his best to appear in control and sure of himself, but he couldn't quite manage it as well as the real Arthur. Indeed, Gwaine was more and more able to perceive Elyan's emotions underneath Arthur's traits. It was as though the illusion was slowly loosing of its hold.

Gwaine stepped closer to his fellow knight but avoided too much familiarity. After all, to everyone else who happened to glanced at them, Sir Gwaine was reporting to his king.

"The men are ready," said Gwaine. "More than ready. They need to get moving. Waiting just gives them too much time to think."

Elyan put an unsteady hand on the hilt of his sword. Gwaine couldn't help but feel sorry for the young knight. This was his first assault, and on top of everything he had to be _leading_ it.

Gwaine turned his back to the rest of the crowd. "Are you ready?" he asked in a low voice.

"Don't I look ready to you?" said Elyan, mimicking Arthur's smile.

"I know what it feels like. I've been there, you know."

The smile faded and Elyan's fearful traits came back on the king's face. "You weren't the king in this other life of yours."

"Not the king indeed," Gwaine snorted. "But I was young, and like you I was afraid to die. Now let me give you some advise I acquired with experience, don't think about dying. Don't think about death. You have to fight as if death doesn't exist; not for you, and not for your men. And you'll be all right."

Elyan looked shocked. "That's your advice? _Don't think about death_? That's rubbish!"

Gwaine merely shrugged. "Sorry, mate. That's all I got. I ain't Merlin."

"Well, I hope he gets here soon," said Elyan.

"Me too," let out Gwaine with a sigh.

Most of all, he was missing his friend. The issue of the battle was of secondary importance to him. He had faith in Arthur's ability to carry out a plan. His worries were more of a personal nature. Being a knight of Camelot had changed his life and his priorities. If he was indeed going to die today, it would be protecting his friends.

"What about you, Gwaine? Are you ready?"

The knight smiled casually. "As ready as I'll ever be. Why do you ask?"

Elyan was staring at the horizon.

"Because the sun is rising."


	31. Chapter 30: Heart's Desire

**Chapter 30: Heart's Desire**

Morgana Pendragon stood in front of the mirror, mesmerised by her reflection. Now that she was wearing her formal red velvet gown, she truly looked like a princess, even a queen. However, through the eyes looking back at her, she could no longer see that fire that had once guided her every move. Instead there was a longing for something else, to get away from all of this and never come back. She felt trapped, like a tiny bird caught in a snare. It was as though the heavy fabric of the dress was strangling her. It was holding her back like chains, keeping her from flying to the one she loved. She wanted nothing more than to get rid of the dress and burn it.

The door swung opened. Morgause walked in, a candle in her hand. Morgana smiled in acknowledgement. Now her thoughts were no longer her own. She could not allow herself to wander or the high priestess would see right through her.

_Smile. Everything is fine. You actually want this. You want to be Queen of Camelot._

"I was coming to wake you, but you are already up," said Morgause while lighting more candles in the chamber. "And you are dressed. You still look tired, sister. Did you get any sleep?"

Morgause's reflection swept besides Morgana's. Dressed in red and black lace, the high priestess was as beautiful as ever. But there was something else in her traits. Something new.

Morgana returned the smile a little weakly. "I slept very little. I must be nervous. It's all happening so fast. I do need help with the fastening of this dress."

_Stand up straight. You want this. You want to be queen._

Morgause slid behind Morgana's back and began to tie the corset with delicate hands.

"I can't imagine what they've done to you, sister," Morgause said softly. "But it's all over now. Today is the first day of a new life for us and for our kind. Dawn is coming and nothing can stop it. Here, look!"

She glided towards the windows and opened the shutters at once. A pale light immediately filled the room. There was maybe just an hour left until dawn.

_Hair. Just a little brush. _

Morgana moved to her dresser and found her favourite comb. It wasn't her old chambers, but all of her possessions had been moved here upon her arrival.

A sudden roar filled the air and Morgause let out a cackle of excitement. The shadow that followed blocked out all of the light from the opened window. The shade twisted and twirled, and then it was gone. Morgause's hand brushed against the windowsill.

_A bit of lotion for the curls. Brush again._ She couldn't let her thoughts wander.

"Magnificent, aren't they?" whispered Morgause, her voice softer now. "Their master is equally so. You have just met him, but soon you will see. Those who do not love him fear him. He is more than a man. That spoiled boy-king Arthur Pendragon doesn't stand a chance."

_Hair done. Now, earrings. The long ones with the red gem. The ones Uther gave me for my birthday._

Morgana glanced rapidly at Morgause's silhouette. Today more than ever, Morgause seemed more woman than warrior, which was somewhat of a change. The last rays of moonlight were making her hair shimmer like silver. She was staring at the scenery dreamily, tall and proud.

"It's just as we dreamed, sister," the witch murmured. "It is _perfect_. Arthur's little army will be crushed like bugs by our mighty dragons. What power could possibly stop us now?"

_Don't think of an answer. Necklace. That's easy. The most expensive one. Only for very special occasions. _

Morgana moved around the room, looking for that one particular necklace. All of her belongings were spread out around her. There were trunks of dresses, cloaks and shoes lined up against the wall. It had been quite a trial to find the right dress, one that Morgause would approve of. There were also several wooden boxes laid out on the long table. These were mostly perfumes and other elixirs to make her skin shinier or her lips redder. The boxes containing jewellery all had small locks and designs on the lid. The other boxes were opened to show their contents.

_So many trivial things. Had she really been that shallow? How foolish it all seemed now._

"What's wrong, sister?" asked morgause all-of-a-sudden.

"I can't find the necklace I want to wear," Morgana replied without much thought. "The box has a large M on it."

Morgause was immediately by her side; not to help her in her search, but to hold her by the shoulders and look at her with concern.

"What is the matter, sister? I can feel that you are troubled. You know that you can tell me everything."

"I'm not troubled," Morgana said quickly, shaking her locks. "It's just… I'm happy for you. You and LeNoir. You deserve it."

Morgause's face lit up at once and she even blushed. At the same time, Morgana's heart almost jumped out of her chest. A wave of loneliness swept over her. She pushed the powerful feeling deep down.

"I see your mind now," Morgause whispered compassionately. "You wish that your situation was the same, that you were not alone. You are right: it is a blessing. I must admit that I did not see it coming. I'm as surprised as you are, sister."

"You deserve it," Morgana repeated almost absent-mindedly.

_Where's that necklace? Where's that _bloody_ necklace?_ Her thoughts were slipping. _Get a hold of yourself, Morgana. It's almost time. Time for a drink. _

"Is there anything else?" asked Morgause.

"Ah ha! It seems that I have found my heart's desire."

She lifted a wooden box with a large M on it. Morgause immediately helped her put on the necklace, laughing at Morgana's love for a mere ornament.

There was a sudden knock on the door. Morgause rushed to open it, probably hoping to see her lover. Instead, there was only one unhappy-looking guard with a bottle of wine.

"Lady Morgana requested this, my Lady," said the guard to Morgause.

The witch accepted the bottle and shut the door at once.

Morgana put on her best smile. "I thought we should have a drink to celebrate," she said cheerfully. "I had to use one of the guards to get it. It's from Arthur's personal stores."

Morgause merely looked amused by this and she set out to uncork the dusty bottle.

_Perfumes, perfumes, perfumes_, Morgana kept thinking, rummaging through her belongings on the long table. Perfectly inconspicuous among the harmless potions, there was a fine phial of clear liquid that she had taken from Gaius' chambers. The perfect hiding place. Quickly, she slid the phial into her hand and concealed it in the folds of her dress.

"I'm sorry I couldn't provide any decent servants for you, sister," said Morgause. "Though Arthur's servants are anything but decent."

Morgana felt the color drain out of her face.

"Dear sister! I do apologise. I did not mean to bring back such awful memories on such a glorious day. Do not think that I have forgotten what that cursed manservant did to you."

_Corset too tight_. _Breathe_.

"I want him to suffer." Her voice was barely a whisper.

"I know, sister," said Morgause, beaming. "You will have your vengeance. Merlin will suffer for what he has done. You have my word."

The words echoed in Morgana's mind and it seemed to give her a boost of confidence. Yes, Merlin was on her mind, but not for the reason that Morgause imagined.

_Damn! Focus, Morgana! _

Morgause came closer to brush a lock of hair away from Morgana's face. "This is my promise to you, sister," she whispered.

"And I promise you, sister," said Morgana with a smile, "that this day will bring everything that we wish for." She glanced at the bottle of wine. "But now, what I wish for is a glass of that wine."

After sharing a warm and affectionate smile, Morgause went back to opening the bottle and Morgana turned her attention back to her perfumes.

"We haven't any glasses," declared Morgause.

"Would you try to find some, while I figure out what perfume to use?"

The high priestess left the table: the perfect opportunity. The table was only a step away. Morgana swept silently. The content of the phial went into the bottle of wine. The empty phial disappeared instantly among the perfumes. _Perfect moves_.

"What shall we toast to?" said Morgause as she brought two glasses from a cabinet.

Morgana poured two glasses of red wine. "Love?" she offered. Her heart was beating so hard that she could hardly hear her own voice.

Morgause smiled warmly. "To love, then."

Together they lifted their glasses, and together they drank. Morgause would not have accepted it any other way. The high priestess drank almost half of the glass at once; Morgana, just a little sip on the tip of he lips. It was the only thing that she could do to avoid raising suspicions.

"Have you found your heart's desire among your perfumes then?" asked Morgause.

"I think I've always known my heart's desire," replied Morgana, trying to remain casual after drinking the poison.

"What will it be, then?" laughed Morgause.

The chuckle that followed was lost in a long and painful gasp. The witch's hand shut to her chest. She grabbed the table, missed it and fell on her knees, struggling to breathe.

Morgana could feel her throat tighten as well, but the effect would perhaps take longer to grab hold. However, her confidence did not extend beyond that; even in a small quantity, the poison would kill her.

"You… you tricked…," gasped Morgause. "You… changed… your heart."

Morgana kneeled to the ground beside the woman who had once nurtured her, cared for her. She held Morgause's struggling body on her lap, as Merlin had once done in similar circumstances.

"You're right," she said in a hoarse voice while caressing Morgause's hair. "My heart is no longer yours. It is mine, for whatever time it has left. I will die because of a bottle of wine! That guard was awfully late. Otherwise there would have been time to put the poison only into _your_ glass, sister. What a poor Seer I make! I didn't see my own death."

Morgause suddenly grasped her arm. Her whole body was tense. She was drawing her last breath.

Suddenly, a ray of light caught Morgana's eyes. A warm sunbeam was touching her face. It was pale: the beginning of the new day. But for Morgana, it was the beginning of the end. Every breath was painful and contained less and less air. She felt light-headed and nauseous, yet she was calm. After all, she had wanted this. She had done this so that Merlin could stand a chance. It was all for Merlin.

"Look, sister," murmured Morgana. "The sun… is rising. We shall… see that day… together… after all."

Morgause's limp body fell from her lap. Morgana could feel her own limbs becoming heavier, but she did not fight it. She allowed her head to rest on the cold stone floor, overcome by pain. Each breath was like a dagger into her chest; or maybe the pain was in her heart because she knew that she would not see Merlin again.

A light flashed before her eyes. She heard young voices laughing; saw a glimpse of a house near a lake and a silhouette leaning on the doorframe.

Then the floor underneath her began to rumble and all became black.


	32. Chapter 31: Like Lightening

**Chapter 31: Like Lightening**

The scream that filled the air shook the walls of Camelot. It lifted Arthur and Galahad off their feet and sent them slamming against the furniture, so that none of them saw their prisoner escape.

The scream rose like a storm and turned the early morning light into a swirling darkness. A wave of hopelessness and fear swept over the army as they were mounting their horses, preparing for the assault. High above, the powerful dragon-shades let out a long roar in unison, sensing the wrath of their master.

Morgause was dead, and the dragonlord LeNoir was upset. Very upset.

On top of a nearby hill, a man in glimmering armour stood alone. The time to send the men to battle had come, but the wizard hadn't. The sky was darkening. Where was Arthur now, the real king of Camelot? Was he lying somewhere inside the city walls, wounded or otherwise defeated? If neither Arthur nor Merlin had succeeded, what would become of King Lot's two thousand men? What could mortal men do against such darkness?

The lone knight pulled his sword and pointed it at the sky. A last morning ray caught the blade, making it shine like a star. And then the knight kicked his horse and rode head first into battle.

…

Merlin crashed against trees and hit the ground hard before he started rolling in the dirt over a good distance. When he finally stopped, it was with his back against a trunk. His fingers still clung to the staff, but the warmth of the wood had disappeared. He knew without really understanding how or why that the long flight was over.

The fall had shaken his whole body and it took him a few seconds to recover his senses. Was it the fall, or was it something else that had shaken him? It seemed as though he had heard a scream, right before the sharp plunge. In fact, it had been more than a scream: he was sure of it. Something terrible had just happened. Was it Arthur? Or Morgana? He didn't really have any way of knowing.

Suddenly the staff in his hand began to vibrate again and the clear crystal started to glow a pale shade of green. It seemed to be telling him to hurry.

With quick strides, Merlin ran to the highest ground, hoping to find his bearings. It didn't take him long to recognise where he was. He had travelled so often in these woods with Arthur. He was a short ride to Camelot; on foot it would take him considerably longer.

Having no other choice, he tucked the staff in his belt, swung it behind his back and began to run in a straight line towards his goal. As he sped over an open field, he saw the sky above his head darken. This storm was not natural; there was dark magic behind it. If only he could run faster, but his lungs were burning and his legs were hurting from strain.

A voice cried out in his mind. _Merlin Brittanicus!_

It was the use of his family name, more than the voice in his head, which made him slow down. And then, he saw it: a flash of brown running alongside him. He could hardly believe it.

"Nuada!" he cried out in wonder.

But there was no rider with the horse. The steed, a parting gift from Aria's Cradle, had joined him quite on its own. A saddle was on its back, a new one that Merlin had never seen before. It was by all standards a saddle fit for a king.

"I'm glad to see you, my friend," said Merlin as he caught the horse by the reins.

_Indeed! It seems that you cannot go anywhere without me! _

The words had burst into his mind quite naturally, and Merlin distinctively saw the horse wink at him.

_So you do speak_! Merlin thought in the same kind of speech.

_It's about time you start listening!_ The horse laughed, shaking its mane.

Merlin took hold of the saddle and swung his leg over the horse's back. Then his foot hit something else as he sat: his grandfather's sword – Light of Brittanicus –had been carefully tied to Nuada's saddle.

_You have Sir Gwaine to thank for the saddle_, said the horse, _and Sir Galahad for not forgetting the sword. They knew that I would find you if you were in need._

_And so you have, _Merlin replied. _But now you must ride. We have to get ahead of this storm, if we can._

_We will be like lightening, then, son of Brittanicus. Hang on tight and keep the path clear!_

Merlin had taken Nuada on long rides many times before, but never with such a need for speed. Now they were riding as though their lives depended on it. Nuada jumped over streams and fallen trunks. If anything was in their path, Merlin would just utter a few words to remove the obstacle by making it roll, or sink into the ground, or just fly out of the way. As they rode, the darkness above their heads grew deeper and more threatening. A few times, Merlin thought that he could hear the thunder, but as they got closer he realised that those sounds were the roaring of the dragon-shades.

The closer they were getting to Camelot, the more people crossed their path. They were mostly families, with small children hurdled in carts, leaving the city. One little boy pointed at him and shouted the words "wizard" and "Merlin". Several cries of wonder followed after that, but always behind his back.

Merlin was only thinking of the task ahead, and he felt a jolt in his stomach when he thought of Kilgharrah.

_Do you know anything about the ancient ways of the wizards? _He asked Nuada.

_Only that it's a power of the spirits, not of mortal men, _said the horse. _Then again, you are what you are. Perhaps this power is already in you, tied to your… ARROWS!_

Merlin only had one or two seconds to react. With the palm of his hand stretched outwards, he cried out the words to make a shield. The light burst out in front of him. The arrows hit the magical barrier and disintegrated into ashes and dust. But another volley was sure to follow so he pulled Nuada's reins into another direction.

_The attack has begun,_ said Merlin. _We have to go around or we'll get caught in the cross-fire!_

_And how do you expect we'll get through that? _The horse snapped back.

Sure enough, in front of them was a row of heavily armed mercenaries; Morgause and LeNoir's men, most likely. Those thugs seemed determined not to let them pass.

Without stopping, Merlin pulled his sword from his sheath. In a flash, he remembered his training in Aria's Cradle. His strong point was speed and agility. He could take these men, with or without magic. What was Galahad's usual advice? _Don't ever – ever – let your horse take a hit. _

Merlin blocked the first blade, then the second one on the other side, and then most of the following blows. A dagger thrown at him grazed his cheek but Nuada quickly reacted with a rear-hooves kick that knocked down at least two attackers. Merlin's sword slashed mercilessly, but still he felt trapped because he could no longer ride. The sky was darkening; time was against him.

Suddenly, he felt a pull on his back: one of the thugs had taken hold of the staff and was dragging Merlin off the horse along with it. There was no other option: with a spell, Merlin made the leather of his belt brake. Both he and the staff tumbled to the ground. From the corner of his eye, he saw a mercenary aim a blade straight at Nuada. Without hesitation, he cried "_Baerne_!" and a streak of bright flames burst in front of the attacker, making him squeal in pain. The other thugs took a few steps back.

Nuada was stomping the ground so as to catch Merlin's attention. As he wheeled around, the wizard saw that a particularly large thug had taken his staff. He was now twirling the wood in his hand and eyeing the crystal with great interest. But as soon as Merlin took a step closer, he pulled a long sword splashed with blood.

"What does this do, I wonder?" muttered the thug, eyeing the staff with great interest. "I always wanted to do magic myself. Now _I_ could be the master. What do you say, sorcerer? Should I give it a go?"

Merlin was rooted on the spot. He didn't know how the magical tool would react to another's command; he had been entrusted that staff only a few hours ago.

The mercenary smirked maliciously, showing brown and yellow teeth. He raised the staff a little higher. "What's that word you just said? _Baerne_!"

The immediate effect of the spell was like a bolt of lightening. A sharp burst of yellow light shot into the sky. Then the tip of the staff began to blast streaks of fire everywhere and uncontrollably. The sword fell to the ground as the mercenary, laughing like a mad man, had to hold the staff with both hands. Nuada neighed in panic and kicked off to get out of the way. But the horse did not get far: a wall of fire was blocking every escape path.

Merlin had thrown himself out of the way and now he was struggling to get up in the thick smoke, cursing under his breath. How could he have let this happened? This was _his_ staff. _He_ was the wizard.

_Well, do something about it, then_! Nuada said in his head. _You are a master of the elements, are you not?_

_Rain_! Merlin thought instantly. He cried "_Tidrenas_!" and a downpour began within seconds.

The wizard jumped to his feet and stepped closer to the mercenary. On his face, he could read panic as the staff was spinning out of control and spitting flames that were turning fast into thick dark smoke. The fires were dying all around them, but the staff was continuing to create chaos. _Perhaps_, thought Merlin, _it is reading what's in this man's soul… _

The mercenary seemed to be thorn between madness and terror. He was screaming and laughing, but his fingers would not let go of the staff. The wood was now dripping with water, as were Merlin's hair…

Then the solution hit him. He stretched his hand in front of him and the words came naturally. Water was his ally, and he was turning it into ice. He felt the cold on his forehead, saw the frost at his feet, and the skin of the man in front of him became white with cold. All was frozen, even the sounds. Merlin could see his breath coming out in small clouds. His hand was almost on the staff.

"What arrrrre you?" said the mercenary, with his teeth chattering and a look of awe on his face.

"A wizard," said Merlin.

As soon as his fingers were on the staff, he felt the change in the weapon. The last flame that blasted from the tip of the wood was not deadly fire but a pure ray of light.

The mercenary dropped on his knees and began to beg for mercy.

"I don't have time for this," Merlin cut him off. "Where's LeNoir?"

Defeated, the mercenary had no choice but to answer. "You're too late. The sun is up. Morgana Pendragon is now queen."

Merlin felt his heart sink. _Morgana_. This couldn't be. It wasn't the whole story. There was something else. Morgause was dead. He had felt LeNoir's anger. Somehow, their plan had gone wrong, which could only mean that Morgana was in trouble.

"We have to hurry!" he cried out to Nuada.

The horse was beside him within seconds and they began to ride again at full speed. This time, Merlin kept the staff in his hand, using it as a beacon of light in front of him. The rain had not stopped and thunder was clapping above.

When they arrived at the scene of the battle, Merlin immediately realised how terribly late he was. The dragon-shades were making long sweeps above the men's heads, cutting and biting all within their path, igniting the trees and fields with bursts of fire. The rain was the only thing keeping the fires from spreading to the forests and hills. He suspected many farmers to be hiding there; not everyone was made for war.

King Lot's men were not all soldiers either, but they were working hard to do as much damage as possible. They were wielding swords, spears and axes with a desperate will to survive. Merlin could also spot several red cloaks leading assaults on different sides of the castle, trying to break through the barrier of the dragons' protection.

Merlin led his horse through the flames and fighting men, looking for a sign of LeNoir. However, he knew that he would not find him out here. Camelot was a fortress. It would be stupid for him to leave the citadel while his dragons were doing such a great job of keeping the enemy out.

_We'll have to find a way into the citadel_, he said to Nuada.

_Well, you can't expect me to go galloping into some dark secret passages._

_Of course not_, thought Merlin. But he doubted that the passages were still accessible with that deep moat around Camelot; a moat filled with water. If he had known, he would have never done it…

"MERLIN!"

The sorcerer wheeled around just in time to avoid a spear thrown in his direction. The sharp end caught Nuada in the rear and the horse neighed in pain. Merlin raised his free hand and sent the attacker flying into a heap of rock. Then Nuada began to stump the ground feverishly and Merlin had no choice but to jump off the saddle.

Three thugs were on him as soon as he was on his feet, slashing at him with daggers and swords. Merlin sent the first one sliding into the mud with a burst of magic. The second one dropped his blade when it turned red hot, but Morgause's mercenary immediately pulled another weapon from his belt. The sorcerer dodged one blow with his staff, sending a shard of wood flying off, and then the attacker's hand was cut clean off by another sword that Merlin had not seen; a sword that was instantly followed by a mane of wavy brown hair.

"Gwaine!" cried Merlin, relieved to see his friend.

The third thug was about to launch at them when he was cut off by another sword, this time held by Sir Elyan. The mercenary did not last long and he rapidly fell to the ground, motionless.

"About time you showed up," said Elyan, clapping Merlin on the shoulder.

"You're 'you' again!" burst out Merlin. "You're not in disguise. What happened?"

Elyan merely shrugged. "The stone was cut clean off its chain after two minutes of battle. It fell in the mud. It's lost forever now. Anyway, I much prefer being 'me'. Being King Arthur is much harder than it looks."

"I won't tell him you said that," said Merlin with a smile. "Where is he?"

Seeing Merlin's puzzled expression, Gwaine quickly explained: "He went with Leon and Galahad to look for a way into the citadel. We haven't seen them since."

"I have to get inside too," said Merlin, eyeing the crystal on his staff. It was shining a pale green light. "I have to find LeNoir."

"We can't get near the walls," Elyan said darkly. "Those dragons are impossible to get pass."

But a plan was already forming in Merlin's mind. The staff had carried him this far. If he could make it fly again, he would enter the castle from above, not below.

_They'll roast you and your stick before you reach the ramparts_, said Nuada in his head.

_I have to give it a try_, replied Merlin. _Will you be all right? Are you hurt terribly?_

_Only my pride_, said the horse, neighing and shaking its mane.

"So what's your plan, wizard?" said Gwaine, leaning nonchalantly on his sword.

"I only need to get close enough," said Merlin, trying to sound confident.

He took the lead at once and Elyan and Gwaine followed him like bodyguards. It was a long way to get to the castle and Merlin was glad to have both knights at his side. Elyan and Gwaine's swords dealt with any opposition swiftly, while Merlin's magic was precise and strong. He had never allowed himself to use his powers so openly and so freely, and he could see surprise as well as dread in the face of his attackers. To be feared was as new to him as being identified as a wizard. Now he knew that his days as King Arthur's witless servant were over.

"Do you think that staff of yours can blast through a wall?" Elyan cried out on top of the noise of the battle.

"I only need to get to the front gate," Merlin replied, sure of himself.

Elyan's face changed at once. "You can't get in through the front gate. That's mad!"

"I didn't say 'through'," Merlin said slyly. In his mind, he was visualising a portion of the ramparts that he knew well. He had often stood there with Arthur, overlooking the main road. It was the perfect spot from which to enter the citadel.

"What other way is there?" he heard Elyan muttered.

Gwaine's reply said it all. "He's a wizard. Expect anything."

Now that he had made himself so spectacularly known, the path before them was getting clearer, free of any thugs. Only the dragon-shades dared to oppose Merlin's powerful magic, but somehow they were not too keen to come close to the staff. The crystal was casting a strong light, blinding the dragons and causing them to shriek in anger.

They soon arrive to the familiar gate, except that there was now a wide trench filled with dark water in front of it. The moat.

"There you go," said Elyan. "We cannot get pass that."

But Merlin was already muttering words of magic under his breath, relaying his instructions to the staff. The magical weapon was vibrating softly. Merlin had figured out how to control it: the key was to show it what was truly in his heart. And his heart's desire wasn't to destroy LeNoir: it was to find and save Morgana.

"Is there anything you need us to do, wizard?" Gwaine whispered to Merlin's ear.

"Find Arthur. He must be in some kind of trouble," Merlin said back.

He was ready. All that he needed to do now was to raise the staff, hang on tight, and then…

"BEHOLD, PEOPLE OF CAMELOT! SEE WHAT YOUR FOOLISHNESS HAS DONE!"

Merlin had to take a few steps back to see clearly the speaker. LeNoir. He was standing on the highest rampart, the one that Merlin was aiming for. And in his arms was the lifeless body of a woman. She was dressed in red velvet. Her black wavy hair flowing in the wind. Her skin was white as snow. As white as death.

_Morgana_.


	33. Chapter 32: Death of a Wizard

**Chapter 32: The Death of a Wizard**

The scream that escaped him was hoarse and painful. Either his mind had shut down the noises of the battle, or the fighting had suddenly stopped. He was only half-conscious of what was going on around him. All of his thoughts were bent on Morgana's lifeless body in LeNoir's arms. With his magic, he was desperately searching for a sign of life, but there was nothing, not even a tiny flicker.

"My beloved Morgause is dead!" called LeNoir from the top of the rampart. "And the traitor Morgana Pendragon as well!"

As he said this, the dragonlord-shade laid down Morgana's body on the length of the wall, her arm dangling dangerously over the long way down. Her face was tilted on the side and Merlin could see her closed eyes and pale features.

He was frozen on the spot, unable to speak or breath.

Elyan's voice was as distant as an echo. "Merlin, are you all right? This isn't over, you hear me? We need you."

"You can burn this city to the ground!" Gwaine yelled for all to hear. "The people of Camelot will build a new one. With King Arthur as their leader, and a wizard by his side, they will come back and drive you out like a rat."

There were several cheers after that, but LeNoir was not impressed.

"A wizard! Your wizard is broken! He cannot defeat me and he knows it, don't you, Emrys?"

The use of his real name brought Merlin out of his state of shock like a cold shower. Gwaine's words were ringing in his mind. _With King Arthur as their leader_. As along as Arthur was alive, all was possible. That thought had always motivated him, no matter how steep the odds. Arthur was his destiny, wasn't he? Then why did he feel so empty inside?

As though to confirm LeNoir's claim, the Crystal of Fyr had suddenly stopped shimmering.

"Merlin is a hundred times the man you are!" Gwaine cried out, taking Merlin's turn to speak. "You bring only death with you."

LeNoir smiled slyly. "And strangely that's how I win. All that I have to do now is to push the Lady Morgana off this wall and you will witness the death of a wizard. An arrow through his heart would be less cruel."

He took a step closer to Morgana, touching her forehead, caressing her hair.

"She must still be alive," muttered Elyan to Merlin's ear. "He wouldn't want to finish her off if she was already dead. Do you hear me, Merlin?"

"These are the words of a coward!" Gwaine yelled again. "Only a coward would use love as a weapon."

LeNoir casually put his boot up on the wall, rolling Morgana's body a little on the side as he did. The dragonlord was leaning forward to address Sir Gwaine. "You're wrong, Sir Knight. Lady Morgana poured the poison in a bottle of wine and then she drank from it. What she did to Morgause, she did to herself as well."

It took a few seconds for Merlin to understand the full meaning of this statement. Morgana hadn't betrayed him. She had sacrificed herself to kill Morgause. What greater proof of love could there be? But she wouldn't want her sacrifice to be wasted. Now it was Merlin's turn to finish it.

And then, he saw it: the flicker of hope that he had been waiting for. It wasn't a sign of life from Morgana. It was rather a flash of blond hair, just close enough to Morgana to catch her if she fell.

LeNoir had no idea who was up there with them.

With a quick twist of his wrist, Merlin spun the staff above his head, summoning its powerful magic with muted words. And then, he _jumped_. The staff lifted him as though he weighted nothing. Flying would have been to hazardous, too random; a jump was safer, easier to control.

And he needed precision, because the spot that he was aiming for was exactly the one where LeNoir was standing.

Merlin saw the flash of a silver before his feet touched the ground. He felt the sting of the blade just above his right knee. He crashed rather than landed, missing LeNoir of only a few inches, rolling away from the outer wall, his leg bleeding badly, the staff knocked off from his hand.

"Fool! You cannot defeat me!" LeNoir cried out, a mad look on his face.

As he was struggling to get up, Merlin's eyes darted towards Morgana. Her head had turned and she was starring at him, a look of pain on her face. If she moved just an inch, she was certain to fall. He could not catch her and fight off LeNoir at once.

Suddenly, the crystal at the end of his staff burst with light. LeNoir was close enough to strike him down. There was no other option. With all of his remaining strength, Merlin summoned the staff which instantly came sliding towards him. He then thrust his entire body into LeNoir's advancing silhouette. The staff knocked the sword out of LeNoir's hand and both sorcerers rolled into the ground. As he was struggling to get on top, Merlin uttered a spell to make LeNoir's body freeze. The air became cold and the rain around them turned to hail. The wizard knew that he would feel the cold as well, but at least now he had his enemy exactly where he wanted. Carefully, he placed the end of the staff containing the crystal just above LeNoir's heart.

"It's time for you to go," he whispered, his breath coming out in white clouds.

LeNoir was glaring at him. There was ice on his skin and hair. The cold was making it impossible for both of them to utter any spell, but Merlin was the one in control.

The wizard knew that the next words would seal the other's fate. He did not even need to use the Old Tongue. "I am the Light that surrounds all. You are the Darkness and I shut your evil soul into the Crystal of Fyr. I am Merlin Emrys and you cannot resist me."

As soon as he had spoken the words, Merlin felt a surge of magic take hold of his body like a wave of fever. It was almost too powerful for him to bear in his weakened state. Hot blood was pouring freely from the deep cut on his right leg. LeNoir's soul was resisting the transfer, pulling madly, desperately, and making Merlin wince in pain. In a few seconds, the wizard was going to pass out. But he couldn't fail now. Morgana was alive. If there was indeed poison in her blood, he would need all of his strength to heal her.

From the corner of his eye, he could see her now. She was trying to get to him, but her movements were erratic and her dress was soaked. It was too heavy. It was dragging her backwards…

"Arthur! Catch her!" Merlin screamed.

She was falling. It was happening too fast.

He was loosing her.


	34. Chapter 33: The Veil

**Word from the author: **_I can't believe how long it's been since I wrote the previous chapters. I hope what follows does the story justice._

_Please tell me what you think._

_Enjoy._

…**..**

**Chapter 33: The Veil**

He was loosing her fast. She was slipping, slipping…

And then, out of nowhere, Arthur caught her. Merlin saw him through a curtain of icy rain. The young king caught her arm, and then her dress. He pulled and pulled until she was safely on the right side of the rampart.

And then something fell on Merlin's lap. The small crystal had detached itself from the staff. It was no longer transparent or glowing with a pale green light: it was as black as a lump of coal.

Merlin's glance caught LeNoir's eyes and they were empty. The dragonlord's soul had finally released Borden's body, and the other man had not survived. It was all over for the dragonlord-shade, and for Gaius's old apprentice as well.

Weak and shaking, Merlin struggled to get away from the body and closer to Morgana. His leg was hurting badly and it was leaving a trail of blood behind him. But none of that mattered: there was still one important task to do.

"I don't think she's breathing," Arthur said as soon as Merlin was close enough.

Arthur had cradled Morgana's head on his lap and he was stroking her hair as though she was a small child who needed to be comforted.

Her chest was no longer moving. _No, she can't be dead_, Merlin thought desperately.

Leaning forward, he began to use all of the healing spells that he knew. He was weak, yes, but it didn't matter because he would gladly give up his life to save hers. Spell after spell, his words seemed to have no effect. The sickness was deep, too deep. She was beyond his reach.

Like Freya. Like his father. Like Will. They had been stolen from him. It was as though he was fighting against another power, a power as great as he was. What is fate? What is his curse to watch all of the people he ever loved die? He couldn't accept that.

"No," he whispered. "Not again. I will not loose again."

The roaring above his head made him look up. The dragon-shades had lost their master. He was their dragonlord now. He felt a strange pity for those monsters who had killed so many of Arthur's people. Like LeNoir, they did not belong to this world. It was time for them to go back.

Wiping his tears with the back of his hand, and grabbing the staff with the other, he struggled to get up under Arthur's sympathetic look.

"She's gone, Merlin," the king said.

Without any reply, Merlin took a few steps closer to the rampart. Holding the staff up, he called to the sky, to the spirits of the Otherworld. There was a sudden thunder and the icy rain turned to snow. Merlin's own breathing seemed to slow down as did the world around him.

"Brittanicus!" he yelled.

There was a clash of lightening, not white but green, high above his head. Now he knew why Taliesin has given him the staff: it was doing all the work for him. It was old magic, and powerful too. This is what being a wizard meant: he could talk to the spirits if he chose to. Just like when he had spoken to the Lord of the Sea, not so long ago, about a map and a dragon egg.

The grey figure, with the white hair and long beard, suddenly appeared before him. Lord Brannan Brittanicus, of the Council of Dragonlords, had chosen to appear not as a man but as a spirit. His face, as big as a thundercloud, was made of green light and white mist. When he spoke, his voice echoed throughout the kingdom.

"Do you seek to challenge me? We told you what needed to be done. The Great Dragon must be killed. Now you have upset the balance of the world. How dare you defy the word of the Council of Dragonlords! How dare you use that _wizard's tool_ against me?"

Merlin twisted the staff in his hands, examining it with newfound wonder. _You understand the laws of nature and of the elements_, had been Taliesin's words.

"You are right, the balance must be restored," replied Merlin, "But it will have to be on my terms."

The old Brittanicus let out a cruel laugh that shook the wall of Camelot on which Merlin stood. "You already have your orders from the Council, said the giant. "To enter the World of the Dead demands a blood sacrifice and the sacrifice I ask is Kilgharrah."

Merlin took a step forward, placing the staff in front of him to help him stand straight. "It seems, Lord Brittanicus," he said forcefully, "that I do not need your help to open the veil between worlds."

Another clash of thunder.

"Fool of a wizard! You are playing with forces you do not understand. What is it that you want?"

Merlin was silent for a few seconds. Then he said, "A deal. An exchange. You return Morgana to the world of the living, and I send the dragon-shades back to the World of the Dead."

The roar that followed was deafening.

"We are spirits! We do not make deals with small wizards!"

"I am not a small wizard! I am Emrys!" cried out Merlin, allowing his anger to show. "You will listen to me! I will send these dragons' souls back to the Otherworld, and you will give me Lady Morgana."

There was a hint of surprise on the giant face. "I do not _swap_ souls, Emrys. To close the veil demands a blood sacrifice."

Merlin took a step forward, taking his time to form his thought. There was only one path for him now. He had accepted his destiny as Emrys, the greatest wizard that ever lived, and he wasn't going to be bullied by any spirits, even if he was his great-great-grand-father.

He took the lump of coal that had once been the Crystal of Fyr and lifted it so that the dragonlord could see it well. "Now I will make myself clear," he said. "You will give me back Morgana, or I will find a way to fit many more souls into this tiny crystal, and neither you nor the Council of Dragonlords will ever see those dragons again."

"You are a dragonlord!" said Brittanicus, outraged.

"I am a wizard," Merlin replied, "and I vow here and now never to take a life again."

There was a short silence, broken only was the high-pitched shrieks of the dragons. And then the giant Brittanicus finally spoke.

"I will not make this deal twice, Emrys. Mark my words. There will not be a next time. So I suggest you chose carefully. There are others, beside the lady Morgana, whom we could give back to you."

New figures suddenly appeared in the sky. His father. His mother. Arthur. Gwen. And… small silhouettes – children – that he didn't know.

"It doesn't have to be now," said the giant spirit. "You only have to name a person."

This is a trick, Merlin thought instantly. He allowed himself to look at Arthur, who was behind him, still cradling Morgana's lifeless body. But the young king was only shaking his head. The understanding between them did not need to be spoken out loud.

He turned his attention back to the spirit of the dragonlord. "Morgana Pendragon," he said for all to hear.

Lightning struck the sky. "So be it," cried out the voice of the giant. "She is yours. Remember you choice and your vow."

Merlin nodded, knowing full well that a deal had been made, a vow of the unbreakable kind.

Reaching into the dragonlord part of his soul, he summoned the sacred gift that would allow him to command the dragon-shades.

"You are free," he told them in the Old Tongue. "Go back to the Otherworld and be at peace."

The staff was vibrating in his hand and he knew that the veil would soon be closing. The face in the cloud melted away to reveal a dark patch in the sky. One by one, the dragon-shades flew towards the vortex, disappearing as the opening grew smaller. The icy rain, the thunderclouds, the green light; all of it was slowly dissolving to reveal a grey sky underneath.

And in that infinite moment when the veil was about to close, Merlin felt a tiny breath, a warm breeze fly past him.

It was Morgana's soul.

Now she was alive, and she was smiling at him.

And it was the happiest day of his life.


	35. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

*******One month later.*******

"This is crazy."

"Will you stop fidgeting?"

"It doesn't fit."

"It would if you allowed me to work properly."

"It's too tight."

"Don't be such a pratt."

"Why are you calling _me_ a pratt?"

"Because you just will not shut up!"

"Well… I prattle when I'm nervous."

"As if I didn't know _that_."

_Snap_.

There was a moment of silence during which Arthur and Merlin both stared in the mirror.

A piece of the full chest plate was hanging loosely on Merlin's shoulders. What Arthur was holding in his hand was the leather belt that was supposed to hold it together. The belt had snapped after being twisted and pulled for half-an-hour.

"It doesn't look like me," Merlin said while staring in the mirror. "It's like something _you_ would wear."

Arthur sighed resolutely, and then he began to take the chest plate off his friend.

On this special day, Merlin was wearing a tunic of dark blue velvet and silver thread, the kind of clothing that he was not accustomed to wear, especially in Camelot. Arthur had offered to help him get ready, which had resulted in what Merlin viewed as a disaster.

"I suppose it looks better without the armour on top," said Arthur who was staring as well.

"I told you so."

The young king was perfectly dressed of course, in white and gold. The queen would be wearing the exact same colors.

"There isn't much we can do about your hair," said Arthur, half-smiling.

"I'm not wearing a hat," Merlin replied right away.

Arthur clasped him forcefully on the back. "Have it your way. Sword?"

"Why on earth would I wear a sword?" Merlin cried out.

"It's a _ceremonial_ ornament," replied Arthur, a hint of annoyance in his voice. "There's nothing wrong with _ceremonial_."

"It's not a war council. It's a _wedding_. Oh, I feel faint again…"

Arthur caught Merlin's arm and watched the color drain from his friend's face for the third time since the morning.

"Honestly, _Merlin_, you have to pull yourself together."

Merlin had reached for a seat and he was now resting his head against the cold wall.

"You're not the one marrying Morgana."

"Thank you for that," said Arthur. "I still can't believe that you're marrying my half-sister. And that if you two have children, they will be in line for the throne. And that we are actually going to brothers-in-law. And that people will address you as 'Lord Merlin' in Camelot. And that King Lot would become our friend and ally. I could never have seen any of that coming."

Merlin's face grew paler, if possible. "Please stop talking," he said faintly. "I just need a moment…"

But his sentence was cut off by the sounds of ringing bells.

"Time to get you to your wedding," said Arthur, pulling him up by the arm. "Only one thing is missing." Arthur stepped towards the closet, reaching out a piece of dark blue cloth. "Scarf or not scarf?"

Without warning, a flash of white flew past his hand and snatched the blue fabric.

"Aithusa! No!" said Arthur and Merlin at once.

It was too late. The small white dragon was happily bouncing on the king's bed, thrashing the scarf happily with its teeth.

"Here goes another perfectly good scarf," said Merlin.

"It's 'no scarf', then," concluded Arthur. "Let's go now, Lord Merlin."

"Go to Kilgharrah, Aithusa," Merlin commanded. The small dragon wailed pleadingly. "Go. I mean it," said Merlin

Another flash of white and the dragon left through the opened window.

Arthur sighed. "That dragon prefers you to its own kind."

"Must be my charming personality," Merlin said with a smile.

Then the king and the wizard left the chamber side by side.

The walk towards towards the King's Hall happened in a blur for the young wizard. When they reached the hall, it was filled with all the people he knew and loved. All the Knights were attending. His mother and Gaius were in the front row. Arthur and Gwen had seats in front of the crowd, to his right side. The hall had been decorated with white flowers and green leaves. When Morgana came in, all dressed in silver and white, Merlin saw her as though she was shrouded in light. She kept her eyes on him until they were standing in front of each other. It was only then that Merlin noticed the small tears in the corner of her eyes.

"What's wrong?" he whispered before anyone else spoke a word. "Is everything all right?"

Her smile was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

"Yes, everything is perfect," she murmured.

"This is what you want, right?"

"Of course," she said, smiling again.

"Was it like this in your vision?" Merlin asked.

"I didn't see a wedding. I just saw…"

She paused. In a few minutes, she would be his wife. They had no secret for each other.

"You can tell me. You saw us together. What else did you see?"

She took both his hands and held them firmly, her eyes locked into his.

"_Our children_."


End file.
